Let's Play
by SSJL
Summary: I'm the first to admit that in sexual situations, I have indulged in role-playing. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Because the idea entertained me, that's why:)**

**--**

He glanced backwards at the woman he had just let in his apartment, letting his eyes roam around the curves that were not in the least concealed by her clingy dress. She didn't notice; she was too busy checking out the place. He figured she had to, in the business she was in; in some ways, her instincts had to be better honed than his own.

"Nice digs," she said appreciatively, running her hand over the back of the couch. Her long red nails scratched softly against the leather.

"Thanks," he said, grinning. "The furniture is new. Just got a bonus at work. Figured I should celebrate."

"I get it." Seemingly satisfied with her read on the place, she finally turned towards him, heavily glossed lips turned up in a seductive smile. "So where's the bedroom?"

He shouldn't have been surprised by her boldness, but he chuckled anyway. "You work fast, huh?"

"Time is money, baby. And we still haven't discussed how much of mine you're gonna pay for."

"I see. Why don't we take a walk and talk about it? I don't do this very often, so you'll have to help remind me of the rules." Very often. Try never. But she didn't have to know that. He took her hand and led her back the hallway while she talked.

"You pay by the half-hour, with add-on for extras. I usually charge five hundred. If you play nice…four fifty."

He pushed the door to his bedroom open and switched the light on its dimmest setting. "What if I don't wanna play nice?"

Spinning around, she pressed her chest against his, and he couldn't get over that full, inviting, sultry smile. "Always an option. If you can afford it." Her eyes flickered over his shoulder, and suddenly she was frowning and backing away. "Hey. You a cop?"

Glancing backwards, he saw what concerned her…the picture setting up on his dresser of the day he got his badge. "Not tonight," he reassured her. "Tonight I'm just…a guy. Who wants a girl." That part was honest enough. When he had seen her, his body had reacted like it never had before…those long legs, and those big blue eyes, and the body that looked like it might have been sculpted by a fucking artiste. He had known immediately that he had to have her.

Those enormous, shatteringly blue eyes studied him suspiciously for a moment…but then her instincts read his honesty, and her smile returned. "I see. So. What does that 'guy' like?" With a small push, he fell to a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I—I don't know," he stammered, just a little, as her fingers curled around the hem of her dress and unceremoniously pulled it up over her head. She now stood before him in a push-up bra, high heels, and thong panties. Just like that.

Her smile was almost sympathetic at his momentary inability to speak. "Do you like having your cock sucked?" she asked, helpfully, taking a step closer to him, leaning over and placing her hands on his thighs.

"Are there guys that don't like that?" he asked, genuinely incredulous. She chuckled at his curiosity, her breasts bouncing a little bit.

"I don't assume anything, honey. You'd be surprised by what people do and don't like. But I never am." She looked downwards pointedly at the bulge growing in his jeans. "It looks like you've already seen something you like, though."

"You get me hot," he breathed, entranced by her in all her crude, sexualized glory.

"Okay. I'll tell you what," she said, voice husky. She pushed off his thighs, standing in front of him once more without touching. "You just tell me what to do, piece by piece, and I'll do it. And if any point you want me to improvise, let me know. I'm a smart girl." Her eyes sparkled. "Just watch the time."

He was half-tempted to just tell her to go ahead and improvise; anything she did with that mouth and those legs and that body, he was pretty damn sure would be alright with him. But it also occurred to him that if he was paying anywhere close to five hundred dollars for a half hour, he might as well get the most out of it. "Turn around," he said. His voice sounded unsure to his own ears, but the woman before him seemed pleased to hear him taking control.

She grinned as she slowly twirled around, shaking her perfect ass just a little bit. His mouth dried at the sight of the tiny scrap of turquoise fabric that wrapped around her waist and then disappeared between the cheeks of her bottom. He thought briefly of whether he'd like to take her this way later: from behind, so he could watch her ass as he thrust in and out of her. "Like that?" she asked.

"Yeah. That's nice," he told her, gaining confidence now. "Take off your bra."

"I knew you'd start figuring out what you wanted." Her fingers appeared at her back, unhooking the garment with a practiced pinch. She pulled her arms out of the straps; ever the showman, she held it between her fingers and extended it far away from her body before letting it drop to the floor, exposing the bare, smooth expanse of her back.

"Turn back around." He sucked in a deep breath when she did. "Gorgeous."

"Thanks. They're natural." She hefted the sweet weight of her breasts in her palms, displaying them for him. "You wanna touch them?"

God, did he. But…"Not yet."

Her shiny, ruby lips pouted, but she didn't complain.

"Come closer. Get on your knees."

She smirked and complied, taking a step forward and lowering herself between his spread legs. She placed her hands on his thighs again, while purposely brushing her bare breasts against his crotch and looking up at him seductively, waiting for further instruction.

Looking down at her, he resisted the urge to just lower his face down and kiss that red, practiced pout from her face. But he knew that's likely just what she wanted; the quicker she could reduce a man to his baser instincts, the quicker she could move onto the next customer, the next wad of cash. He held back. "That thing you were talking about before. Do you like that?" he asked her.

Her face was amused. "Sucking a man's cock? I would say it's my specialty."

"But do you like it?" he insisted. Even in this (highly unusual) circumstance, he wasn't about to make a woman do something she disliked. Although he wondered if she'd tell him, even if she did.

She looked up at him, her angel eyes reading something decidedly less innocent. "I like to hear a man moan while I torture him with my tongue, not sure whether he wants me to go faster so he can come, or slower so he can make it last. I like feeling him twitch in my throat when I swallow him as deep as it gets. I like feeling his hands in my hair, telling me how good I am, the best he's ever had. So yeah. I would say I like it."

His dick pulsed a steady rhythm in his pants. God. She was good. "Okay," he whispered. "I want that."

"Of course you do." Kneeling down, she rubbed one soft cheek gently against the part of him that was begging to be set free. "Will you do me a favor? Will you take off your shirt? A man should always take off his shirt before his pants."

Whatever she fucking wanted. While he pulled it over his head, he asked her another question. "What's your name?"

She laughed softly. "What do you want to call me? That's the most important question."

He considered as he tossed his shirt aside. "I like Temperance."

That renewed her giggles. "That sounds like some of my grandmother's friends."

His slight annoyance at her judgment quickly faded while she carefully plucked at the button of his jeans. "How about I just call you Baby?"

"That's fine, lover," she whispered sweetly, while she unzipped his fly and gently worked her hand inside. Her hot hand searched, then found him, gently tugging him free from the confines. "Oh," she sighed. "It's nice."

He looked at her closely, wondering if she was serious, or if it was something she told all men. She appeared genuinely appreciative, though.

"It's all nice," she said, letting go of his cock for a second while she ran her hands (with those ridiculously long nails) up his chest, lingering on the bulges of muscles she found. "Why are you paying for it, honey? I bet there are lots of girls who'd…like this opportunity."

His breath caught at her every touch. "There are…circumstances."

"I get it." Her fingers drifted back down to give his cock a squeeze, making him gasp. "You're not paying me for this. You're paying me to leave after." She didn't appear to be offended by this assessment, although it surprised him that her instincts didn't tell her that this was different…he was paying her because she was one of the most amazingly beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he was pretty sure this was the only way he could get her to come home with him.

Struggling to stay composed, he lifted a bit to allow her to pull off her pants. "Depending on how this goes, I might pay you to stay a little longer."

"Aren't you sweet," she cooed. "I guess I'll have to work real hard to make sure this goes well, huh?" Leaning back on her haunches, she whispered. "Now. Let's see what I can do with this beautiful cock of yours."

To her credit, she didn't rush. She rubbed him slowly, luxuriously before her mouth got anywhere near him. She ran her tongue along his thighs, complimenting how strong he was. She pressed tiny kisses up the entire length of his rock-hard penis, then back down again, making sweat bead on his forehead with the frustratingly delicious stimulation, and with anticipation. And when she finally did wink up at him one last time before wrapping her lips around the tender head of his cock and nursing gently, he couldn't repress the loud, strangled groan that come from his throat.

She was right. She was the best. Everything about her tongue and her mouth and her clever fingers (which busied themselves tweaking his nipples and stroking his balls, while her lips worked their own magic) seemed designed for the very purpose of bringing him exquisite pleasure. "Oh, baby. Oh, _God," _he gasped, hand descending to her flowing auburn waves.

"Mmm," she agreed, unable to properly respond because now she had him wedged in the back of her throat and was swallowing the tip of his cock.

"Baby, you have to stop," he begged as her head bobbed up and down, the suction almost unbearably, pleasurably intense. He felt his balls start to tighten, his come starting to rise, and he knew that if he had any inkling of having sex with her, this needed to end pronto.

To torture him, she gave him one, last, lingering suck. "But you were just really starting to enjoy it," she teased. But he didn't let her continue to tease. He hauled her up by her shoulders and crushed her lips against his. He knew he was probably getting her lipstick all over his face and he didn't give a fuck. She seemed surprised for a second, then eagerly responded, tangling that talented tongue with his and kicking off her shoes so that she could climb up and straddle him.

God, it was heaven…those ridiculously gorgeous legs wrapped around his waist, her swollen lips sucking at his. There seemed to be real passion behind her kiss, and while he had no doubt she could probably manufacture it, he forced that possibility from his mind. He tore his lips from hers to feast on the delicate flesh of her breasts. She had been right…they were perfectly natural and soft under his mouth, her nipples rosy and pebbly and exquisitely responsive to his sucking mouth.

Her head fell back. "Wow, lover. Feels like that beast has been in its cage for too long," she gasped, arching towards him and rubbing her hips back and forth against the overexcited hardness of his cock.

He kissed her again, hard. "I want you."

"You wanna fuck me?" she asked breathlessly, grabbing onto his ass and increasing the friction between them.

"I don't care how much it costs…how long it takes…" he felt like he was babbling now, but he felt wild, out of control in his desire to have her, to be a part of her.

"It's okay, lover. I wanna fuck you too."

He felt like howling in triumph as he lifted her and nearly tossed her down on the expanse of the bed behind them. She wanted him. And this was gonna be good…good for both of them. He immediately resumed his fevered kissing of her body, trailing down her stomach. His teeth caught in the elastic of her thong panties, and he bit down to pull them off of her. She seemed to like that, and hummed her approval as she thrust her hips up.

"Anything special?" she gasped out while he threw her panties on the floor, kissing his way back up her calves and thighs. It took him a second to even register what she was talking about.

Oh, yeah. He remembered, not so long ago, thinking maybe he'd like to take her from behind. But now…she had reached for the condom that was laying on his nightstand, and was dispensing of the wrapper and sheathing him with a practiced stroke. Her lipstick was smeared and her hair tangled now, but her eyes…they were fucking perfect, and she looked beautiful.

"This is special," he promised her, his lips descending on hers as he eased into a tightness and warmth he had never imagined.

"Oh," she whispered against his mouth, wrapping her legs around him. "That's good. That's…_oh."_

"You're incredible," he groaned out, burying his head in her throat and sucking on the perfect, pale skin there.

"You haven't seen anything yet." She rotated her hips and at the same time squeezed his cock inside of her from all sides.

"_Jesus. _You want me to lose it, don't you?" he panted.

"I just want you to come harder than you ever have in your life."

He was far too close to that already. _"Baby."_

Her voice was soothing, breathless. "Nice and slow, lover."

That's what he strove for, concentrating on _her _gasps and moans to direct the tempo and depth of his thrusts. It kept his mind from his own impending explosion, which was threatening to overwhelm him any moment, propelled on by her smell and her soft skin and her raspy quality of her voice while she cried out her encouragements to him. He only sped up when her moans took on a more desperate quality, her thrusts feeling less expert and more wild. "Baby," she sighed between hot kisses, "I think I might come with you."

For some reason, that aroused him more than anything she said all night. "Oh, yeah. God, yeah." He felt spasm around him, and her words dissolved into fevered moans that propelled him straight into oblivion. "_Temperance!" _he cried out through gritted teeth, forgetting in his pleasure that he had told her he wouldn't call her that name, figuring she likely wouldn't care during her own orgasmic throes. He came with a force that made him worry his condom would overflow, but he couldn't stop. He had wanted her too much.

He remained on top of her for a few moments, trading kisses that matched the pace of his slowing heartbeat, until finally rolling off of her. She let out a satisfied sigh.

"That was great, baby. You're a good fuck," she told him. "I almost feel bad that _you're _the one that has to pay. Almost." She grinned a lazy, beautiful grin at him.

He was too spent to respond at the moment. Then, shortly after…

"So who's this Temperance? I'm guessing she's _not _one of your grandmother's friends."

"No." He rolled his head towards her. "She just…the only woman I've ever met as beautiful as you."

He couldn't tell if she believed the compliment. "Ah. Well. She doesn't know what she's missing out on," she said amiably.

Balling up his pillow, he studied the woman next to him carefully. "Stay the night," he requested.

The woman laughed quietly. "You're too sentimental, lover."

"That might be true," he agreed. "Do it anyway?"

She was already half-asleep. "That must have been quite a bonus you got," she murmured.

"Big bonus," he agreed, gently pulling the comforter up and over her naked, still-flushed body, listening to the sound of her rhythmic breathing until he, too succumbed to the efforts they had put into this night.

--

Waking in the light of the morning sun, he grinned a pleased smile as she wandered into the room with a coffee mug in her hand. "You slept a _long _time," she scolded.

"You took a lot out of me," he teased.

Smiling, she handed him the mug as she eased down on the side of the bed. "I liked that one. How about you?"

He shrugged. "Pretty hot. But not my favorite."

She frowned. "Why not?"

"You know I don't like to control women like that. It's just not my usual style."

"That's the whole point. Besides, you were pretty good at it," she winked.

A little embarrassed, he sipped at his coffee.

"Fine," she said. "Next time, we'll do something where I'm in control. Maybe you can be my cabana boy. Or a naughty schoolboy…"

"Bones!" he exclaimed, his face reddening.

She was laughing. "Oh, stop acting all modest, Booth. You'll get used to the idea. You always do." She pressed a kiss to his temple, and sauntered out of the room. "We'll get breakfast whenever you're ready to rejoin the real world," she called behind her.

He couldn't help but smile. She was right. Being with Temperance Brennan had opened him up to all kinds of experiences that he never imagined, real-world and otherwise.

It was the best work bonus he had ever received.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So I'm finding these more amusing than I ever thought possible. Who am I kidding. I could get addicted to this.**

**This one's for crearealidad. Because she just wanted it SO damn bad;)**

**--**

With lazy strokes, she propelled the raft back to the side of the pool. The water was cool, refreshing against her fingers as they cut through it, but the temperature was just a few degrees too low today to stay in the pool for any length of time. Goosebumps pricked at her flesh as she eased out of the water and the air hit her skin.

"Here you go, Ms. Brennan."

Turning, surprised, she took the towel she was being offered with a slow smile. "Thank you. That's very kind." She wrapped the towel around her damp hair, squeezing the moisture from the length of it.

"Just doing my job." The pool boy grinned at her. Well. That was using the term "boy" loosely. He was, very obviously, a man.

"Not many people out today," she commented, rubbing the water from her shoulders and arms.

He squinted at the sky. "It's overcast. Not a good day to work on a tan."

Spreading the towel out on the poolside lounge chair, she took a seat. "Ah. I'm not here to work on a tan. Just to relax."

"Yeah, I can see. You have great skin."

She smirked at the compliment, and, despite the glare of the sun, she saw him redden. He changed the subject.

"I don't see you out here very often, Ms. Brennan."

"Actually, it's 'doctor.' And I don't often have days off." She stretched out on the chair, drawing up one leg.

"Oh. Doctor." He stood for a moment, looking at her, before it seemed to dawn on him that if she was out here to relax, perhaps she didn't want company. "Okay. Just…let me know if you need anything else," he blurted out.

"Will do," she smiled, pulling down her sunglasses and watching his too-quick exit. His tight black swimsuit hugged his ass, perfectly muscled yet rounded, she noted appreciatively. She wondered briefly about the stereotype that all cabana boys were gay. Hmm. She somehow doubted it, with the way he was staring at her in her bikini. Although she _would _buy the stereotype that he was likely dumb as bricks. Not that you needed intelligence when you had an ass like that.

She was bored. She had known she would be, but she had taken this day off in the spirit of experimentation; her colleagues had insisted that she needed to work on the art of pure lounging, despite the fact that the idea held no real attraction for her. But she respected her colleagues' opinions, so she decided to give it a try.

She was also horny. Ever since the Mark/Jason fiasco, she had been making a real effort to refrain from casual sexual encounters. If she had thought she was feeling unfulfilled before, now the situation was just ridiculous. Watching the pool boy's muscles ripple while he skimmed the surface of the water wasn't helping matters. The water was crystal clear. Why the hell was he skimming it anyway? Looking around at the other mostly-empty lounge chairs, she supposed he didn't have much else better to do. Eyes hidden under the dark glasses, she watched interestedly as he went about the business of caring for the pool. Eh. Fuck it. It couldn't hurt, just to flirt a little bit, could it? Just to make sure she still knew how to do it.

"Excuse me." She waved him over. Immediately, he dropped the skimmer with a "clang" on the patio and made his way over.

"Yeah, Ms…Dr. Brennan?"

"What do you have in the way of drinks back there?" She raised her sunglasses to her head.

"Oh. Um. We have water…juice…just about any kind of soda that you want."

"Nothing with a little more of a kick, huh?"

He grinned, just a little nervously. "Nah, no alcohol. But I can mix a mean lemonade."

She laughed lightly, to put him at ease. "That sounds okay, for now. I'll go with that."

"Sure thing!" He darted off back into the cabana, giving another pleasing glimpse of himself from behind.

If she had to sit around all day, she might as well be entertained. Reaching in the straw bag beside her, she pulled out her SPF 50 sun-block and began rubbing it onto the fair skin of her bare legs.

The problem was that as much as she preferred to be valued for her intelligence and professional skill, there would always be a part of her that was excited by being judged as sexually attractive…especially by someone whom she also found attractive. She liked seeing a man's eyes widen as she removed her clothes, feeling his body respond as she rubbed hers against him. While she could keep herself sexually satisfied at her own hand, she always missed feeling desired. Therefore, she didn't see the harm in engaging in a bit of flirtation with this man…it wasn't like _she _was interested in anything other than his firm body, anyway.

He returned, ice cubes clanking against one another in the plastic cup. "Made just for you," he announced.

She thanked him, taking a sip. It was good enough…a little weak. She assumed it was probably a Crystal Light packet poured into a pitcher of tap water. "It's delicious. You did a great job."

"Really?" His face was just as attractive as his body, she noted. Especially when he smiled.

"Yes. Hey, do you think you could do me another favor? I know it's overcast, but I burn _so _easily…and it's hard for me to reach my back. Do you think…" she trailed off, glancing over at the bottle of sun-block sitting on the plastic stand beside her. "Unless, of course, if you are too busy, I'd understand…"

"No! I mean, sure, I can. There's not much to do today, and besides…I'm here to serve the tenants."

She beamed at him. "You're so sweet," she praised, as if she had ever had doubts that he would come through for her. Adjusting the chair so she could lay flat, she flipped herself around carefully and gathered up her hair to hold out of his way. Her bikini wasn't flashy…indeed, was just a simple black…but there wasn't much of it, and she knew very well that he now had an excellent view of the bottoms of the cheeks of her ass, and probably the sides of her breasts. Modesty wasn't terribly important to her at the moment.

He was rubbing the lotion in his palms, warming it before putting it on her skin. "So…" he began, in an attempt to make conversation at what was potentially an awkward moment, "What kind of a doctor are you? You do operations and stuff?"

Chuckling softly, she replied. "No, I don't have a medical degree. I'm a forensic anthropologist. I use science to understand how people lived and died, by looking at their skeletons."

"Wow! That's awesome." He sounded genuinely impressed. For the first time, she felt his hands on her upper back, warm and strong. And huge. "My parents always wanted me to go to college. But I never was good at all that stuff…science and all that. And it wasn't what I liked most."

There was a surprise. But she was only half-listening, enjoying his fingers rubbing slowly and slickly over her shoulders and up the back of her neck. "Really?" she asked sweetly. "So what _do_ you like?"

"The sun, and the gym. Which makes this the perfect job for me. I get to be outside all day, and I have the evenings free to work out and do whatever else I want to do."

"I see." She turned her head to smile at him. "You must have a good trainer."

"Nope. I do it all myself," he said proudly. He poured more lotion on his hands and started on the middle of her back, making her squirm.

"It's very impressive. Your abdominals are very defined, and your arms appear very strong. Maybe you could help me with my routine sometime…I'm always looking to increase the efficiency of my workout."

He sounded enthused at her interest. "I'd love to. Although…" His hands spanned the width of her tiny waist. "It seems like whatever you're doing is working great. You have a great body." He paused. "I mean…I hope that didn't offend you."

"You're fine. I appreciate the compliment."

"You want me to get the backs of your legs, too?" There was relief in his voice.

"Please."

There was silence for a few moments, save for the quickened sighs of her breathing. He was driving her crazy with his slow, deliberate application of the lotion…despite his slight but obvious discomfort, he seemed to be in no hurry to stop touching her. He took his time on her feet and her ankles, moving slowly upwards to her calves, applying more lotion every time his hands didn't glide completely smoothly on her skin. By the time he reached her thighs, his touch was beginning to feel much more like a massage than anything having to do with protecting her skin from the sun. She spread her legs a little bit, allowing his fingers to dip deeper into the space there. Now she was mostly just torturing herself. She had thought she was horny before, but after 5 minutes of this slow, deliberate treatment that was moving ever closer to her erogenous zones, she was struggling with the whole "flirtation" plan. His thumbs reached the exposed part of her bottom, touched the elastic there…then pushed underneath it, just an inch. She nearly bucked off the chair.

"I just want to make sure you're protected, if the suit moves," he explained, lamely. But his voice was hoarse. And that fucking tiny swimsuit that _he _was wearing…she nearly gasped when she turned her head. It disguised _nothing. _

Yes. It was clear. He desired her, found her attractive. That had been all she wanted. Yet…

Her brain did _not _make a decision. Her mouth did.

"You know…" She pushed herself back up, onto her side. Her nipples pressed prominently against the bandeau top of her bathing suit, and she had no doubt that her face was flushed and her pupils dilated with arousal. If it wasn't for the pungent coconut scent of the lotion, she had no doubt that he'd be able to smell her desire for him. "I think…maybe I want that drink after all. The one with the kick."

"But we don't…" he began.

"I have tequila up in my apartment," she interrupted, not feeling like waiting for his brain to catch up. "You should join me."

His eyes widened in understanding, and she saw him gulp. He glanced nervously around the pool. "I don't want to get in trouble…"

"It's almost lunchtime. And besides…I could use the company today. I'd be happy to let the manager know that you went far out of your way to satisfy this particular tenant." She smiled seductively, realizing only in that moment that the "flirtation only" plan had been completely abandoned. Oh well. That's what happened when her mind was left unoccupied.

A slow grin, just a little bit unsure, crossed his handsome face as he again surveyed the mostly-empty expanse of the pool area. "Okay. I guess a drink wouldn't hurt."

Thatta boy. She stood, wrapping the towel around her middle and tossing the items she had brought along in her bag. "Come on," she told him, motioning with her head to follow. "You make a mean lemonade? I make a great Tequila Sunrise."

Quickly snatching a towel of his own to cover himself with, he hurried to catch up with her. She tossed a few glances back towards him along the way, encouraging him. The only time he hesitated again was at the door of her apartment.

"I'm really not supposed to go into tenants' apartments…" he said.

She stepped inside and dropped her towel, making him gape. "Yes. And I'm really not supposed to invite pool boys back to mine to fuck them. But occasionally, we all break a rule, don't we?"

It amused her, just how fast he hightailed it into her place at that second. She was glad she could still be persuasive, when she wanted to be. She locked the deadbolt; then, as an afterthought, she also hooked the chain lock.

He looked at her questioningly. "Expecting somebody?" he asked.

"No. But sometimes my partner from work drops by unexpectedly. And he has a key," she explained.

"Oh. Doesn't that get annoying?" he asked her, finally taking some initiative by reaching out a finger and trailing it up her arm.

She immediately shivered. "Sometimes," she told him. "But I try to be understanding." Leaning in conspiratorially, she whispered in his ear. "I think he might want to sleep with me."

"Who wouldn't?" replied her guest, and abandoning all pretenses she put her hand at the back of his neck and pulled him towards her to kiss him hard.

Little fireworks seemed to burst in her mouth and shimmer down the rest of her body. This guy might not be the smartest she had ever brought home, but damn if he didn't know how to kiss better than anybody who had ever crossed this threshold. His tongue explored the inside of her mouth excitedly while his hands roamed the contours of her body. She moaned softly, encouragingly into his lips, and boldly grabbed at the towel wrapped around him and yanked. No need for modesty anymore, she reasoned, while she tilted her hips, rubbing against the Spandex-covered hardness of his erection.

"God, Ms. Brennan. I wanted to do this ever since I saw you at the pool the first time…you always look so fucking sexy. I almost exploded when I touched you downstairs."

She thought about correcting his use of 'Ms.' Again, but instead just said, "Call me Temperance. And I'm glad you didn't. Because then I wouldn't be able to have as much fun now, would I?" Taking full use of the privacy they had now, she ran her hands all over his hard, tanned body, from his shoulders down his arms and lower while she kissed him, pushing him back onto her sofa. Once he was spread out before her like a fucking buffet, she busied herself sucking at the cut lines of his stomach until he was gasping for breath.

This wasn't so bad, she reasoned. The reason she got in trouble before with men was because she was _dating _too many of them. This guy wasn't meant for dating. But he was _certainly _made for sex, and she would regret having passed up this opportunity. So…she wouldn't. Sitting up, she untied the string that was holding her bikini top in place, and enjoyed his look of wide-eyed arousal while she bared her breasts for him. Leaning forward, she commanded, "Suck," and he happily obliged her.

Oh, yeah. He was good in the gym, good at the pool, and she had found his _third _talent…his tongue circled the hard, sensitive tips of her breasts with expert precision, seeing to know exactly when to lick or suck or gently scrape his teeth in order to give her the most sensation. Gasping, she fell and caught herself on the armrest, still-damp hair falling down her face. He went from one nipple to the other and back again, and it seemed that he could content himself all day with his mouth on her breasts. But there were other parts of her that were interested in seeing what he could do. Regretfully, she sat back up. His head followed her until he couldn't sit up higher in his current position, and he made a frustrated sound as her nipple slipped from his mouth.

"I like that," she whispered breathlessly. "But you have to get back to your post soon, and I know of something else that we might want to do…" Scooting down, she delicately pulled the tiny Speedo down his thighs, and his cock bobbed enthusiastically in response to her suggestion.

"What do you…I mean, how do you…" His intended question got cut short as she pulled her bikini bottoms aside and sank down on him, inch by tantalizing inch. He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, and looked up at her disbelievingly.

"I like the view," she said, a little apologetic for not having given the poor guy an option. She figured he wouldn't mind. She had been right.

Recovering from his surprise, he firmly caught hold of her hips, raising and lowering her while he rotated his own. Yeah. This is what she had needed. He was big, like the rest of him, like she'd _known _he would be…a stereotype to his very core. The sight of him below her, big brown doe eyes worshipping her rapturously, muscular chest heaving, while his cock filled her to the brim...who needed to date? Who needed a _boyfriend _when she could have this stud at her beck and call by the poolside or on her sofa? She moaned as he thrust up into her hard…yeah, she had definitely made the right call on this one.

"God, you're so good Ms. Bre—Temperance," he groaned, reaching up and stroking her nipples with his huge, tanned hands.

She closed her eyes and focused on the sensation coiling in her belly, ascending each time she twisted her hips. If he kept calling her Ms. Brennan, he was going to distract her. "Do me a favor and don't talk, 'kay? Just fuck me," she said through clenched teeth.

He did.

Closer…closer…she opened her eyes just in time to see his handsome face twisted in pleasure, droplets of sweat forming on his pectoral muscles with the effort of screwing her and coming with her. Lifting her up one last time, he slammed her down against his cock, and the impact was enough to set her off. She howled out her pleasure, arching backwards with her hands on his thighs while rubbing herself hard against him to prolong the sensation.

"Oh, _baby," _he gasped out, and she figured that was better than this 'Ms.' crap.

Leaning down she gave him a deep kiss, then sat up tiredly and patted him on the chest. "Good boy," she said weakly. Climbing off top of him, she grabbed the towel that was laying on the floor, and swiped it between her legs.

He was watching her adoringly. "That was awesome, Temperance."

She glanced at him, giving him a brief smile. "Yeah."

"You think…we can do it again sometime?"

"Huh." She considered it for a second. "Maybe. I don't take many days off, though." Glancing up at the clock, she gave him a quick swat with his Speedo before tossing it on his chest. "You better get going, though. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble."

"You don't want to come back down to the pool?"

"I came there to relax. And I think I'm plenty relaxed now, thanks."

His face turned accusing. "You just want me out of here in case your partner comes, don't you?"

"That's not why," she defended. Although, her sexual urges dispelled a bit, she _could _use some intelligent conversation. She felt almost bad about taking advantage of this poor guy when she looked at the pout on his face. Then her eyes drifted downward…to that body that was just made for a swimsuit, and made even more to be without it…and she felt a stir again. "Well…maybe if you want…you can stay for a little longer."

He brightened, and she advanced towards him again, the predatory gleam in her eye renewed once again…at least she wasn't bored anymore.

--

Later, they sat on her balcony, wearing white robes and sipping at their drinks.

"You're right," he commented. "You _do _make a great Tequila Sunrise."

"Told you," she smirked, stirring her glass with a plastic straw. "Although I didn't think you were actually going to _hold _me to that drink."

"You owed me," he said defensively. "Using and abusing me like that…" But the corners of his mouth were twitching.

She began laughing. "Oh, yes. You poor _baby…"_

"Treating me like a big, dumb, lug…"

"Oh, I could tell you _hated _it," she snorted.

He was grinning now, too. "Although, it is a nice change to have you coming onto me. Gotta say I liked that. But still. At the end of the day. Very emasculating."

"Aw. Well. Maybe next time, we'll let you be the tough guy again." She was teasing, but nonetheless, the thought of Booth _truly _taking control in the bedroom…she shuddered a little.

"You cold, Bones?" he asked, concerned. Then, with a smirk…"Wanna towel?"

"Not cold," she told him, glancing at him sideways, thoughtfully. "More like…lucky. Very lucky." Nonetheless, she took hold of her empty glass and stood to go inside, and he followed her lead. Before entering the sliding door, she turned. "And no, I don't want a towel. Tonight I just want…Booth."

He pulled her in to kiss his smiling lips.

"Never forget it," he whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oh, those cute, kinky kids and their crazy role-playing games. How they make me laugh.**

**--**

Slamming his front door, he cursed while trying to pull off his shoes (without untying them), nearly tripping over himself. It had NOT been a good day. He didn't imagine that being at home would make it any better.

He loved his job. He really did. Catching the bad guys was the thing he was born to do. But in the process…so much fucking bureaucratic crap that went with what _should _be the simple matter of getting justice served. His boss always on his ass when he was just _trying _to do his job. And his partner…He nearly threw the shoe across the room at the thought of her and her colleagues' air of superiority. No wonder he spent most of his days seething in frustration.

"Mr. Booth? Is everything okay?"

Well. And there was the other reason.

It had been Rebecca's idea for him to hire a maid; she had told him she was sick of dropping Parker off in a pit of filth. Judging him, just like everybody else. But, he had to admit that he didn't have much time lately to keep the place looking the way he'd like. So he had broken down and done it. One less thing for someone to bitch to him about.

Except, the maid the agency sent him sort of made his cock want to explode. Which was _not _a good thing, after a day that made his head want to explode.

They must have done it to torture him. Perfect figure, long slender legs emerging from under her frilly, agency-issued apron, full lips meant to be kissed, big, innocent eyes. All on the girl who was probably barely old enough to drink, who was so shy he could barely hear her "thank you" when he paid her at the end of the month. All on the girl who seemed to be _constantly _in his house, being the ultimate unknowing cocktease.

That same girl was now looking at him wide-eyed and concerned, feather-duster in hand, apparently alarmed at all cursing that was going on before he even made it completely inside the foyer.

Forcing back a groan, he made an effort to smile and reassure her. "Yeah, everything's fine. Sorry to frighten you."

She replied with her soft-spoken lilt. "It's your place. Don't apologize." Turning, she continued brushing the duster over the end table. "I'll be done soon."

Great. Until then, he could just sit and watch her little ass sway tantalizingly with every movement. "Will I be in your way if I sit and watch t.v.?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Of course not. Just relax, Mr. Booth."

Easy for her to say. She wasn't the one with the partner always correcting her. She wasn't the one who had to spend every day denying herself what she really wanted, trying to be a "good person." Grabbing a glass, he quickly poured a scotch from the decanter on his mantle, taking a gulp while he maneuvered to his couch. Swallowing, he grimaced a bit. Apparently, this shitty day even made good scotch taste bad. He switched the power of his television on and found a football game…some shit teams he couldn't care less about. He watched the screen a little sullenly, not even noticed when his eyes were pulled to the side by the flexing of her calf muscles, while she stood on tip-toe to reach the lamp. Her legs had a sheen to them…he supposed she was wearing pantyhose as part of her uniform. Her hair was even shinier, pulled simply in a ponytail down over her shoulder. She dropped her duster; bent over to pick it up.

He nearly moaned.

Focus. The game. Football. Don't think about what color her panties are under that standard issue dress. Don't think about what that sweet, lilted voice would sound like if you had her bent over the couch and were pounding her for all she was worth. Don't think of what noises she would make if you took possession of that feather duster and ran it all over her naked body…

He needed to blow of some steam, and fast. Every cell of his body was aching to scream, punch a wall, fuck, _anything _to release some of the frustration he was feeling. Lost in that thought, he was startled when he came out of it and found his gaze planted firmly on her breasts. Lifting his eyes, he found her looking at him curiously. Fuck. If he hadn't been beyond caring what people thought about him today, he would have been embarrassed. As it was, he just didn't want to lose a perfectly good maid. Even if she did happen to drive him crazy.

Instead of looking disgusted at his leering, he was surprised to see the corners of her mouth turn up. Maybe she hadn't noticed where his attention had gone.

"I'll just get the mantle, and I'll be out of your way," she said, in a voice that was almost a whisper, moving briskly to the fireplace.

He tore his eyes from her. Don't watch. Just a few more minutes, and she'll be gone, and you can jerk off to your heart's content thinking about surprising her from behind while she scrubbed out the bathtub, pulling her into the shower and fucking her against the tile wall. Focus on the game. He took deep breaths as he watched the Browns lose even more yardage.

What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion. He looked over to take one more illicit peek, just in time to see her squeezing the duster behind the decanter half-full of scotch. The liquid inside sloshed a bit, making the glass edge off the mantle…one inch, two…"Don't…" he started. But it was too late. It tipped. She didn't even try to make a grab for it, just watched as the heavy glass tumbled to the brick in front of the fireplace. Thanks to quality of the decanter, it only broke with a "crack" in about 3 jagged pieces. The scotch, however…

"Dammit!" he exploded, jumping up from his couch.

She turned to face him with huge eyes that seemed strangely impassive.

"That was a fucking _three hundred dollar bottle _of scotch!!" he fumed, disbelieving of exactly how many things could go wrong in a day, as well as how cavalier his typically nervous young maid was in the face of her carelessness, and his anger. Was he in the fucking twilight zone? "Are you going to clean this up??" he demanded, the strong smell of the alcohol already permeating the room, making him feel a little lightheaded.

She glanced down at the mess, then back up at him. "No. Not right now." So quietly he could hardly hear her.

A disbelieving laugh choked from his throat, and he took two steps back and collapsed on the couch again. This had to be a test. He would never purposely scare or hurt an innocent woman. But this one apparently had some sort of death wish to be taunting him like this when he was so tightly wound. He buried his face in his hands. "Then maybe you better go," he said through gritted teeth, counting slowly to himself (as Dr. Sweets had recommended) to try to get his rage to dissipate. _One one thousand, two one thousand… _He was shocked out of the technique by the sheer closeness of her voice the next time she spoke.

"You can't just expect your problems to just go away, Mr. Booth. You have to deal with them."

Eyes flying open in surprise, he forced himself into stillness at the sight of his maid, sitting on her knees on the couch cushion next to his. The first time he tried to speak, nothing came out. He cleared his throat. "What are you doing?" he asked hoarsely.

"I was careless. I destroyed something of yours. And I should be disciplined." And she climbed over, laid across his lap.

He gaped, part of his mind refusing to process this.

She looked over her shoulder. "Please, Mr. Booth," she said, softly but with more persuasion that he would have ever thought possible from her. "You work all day, so hard. Then you come home, and I make your life _more _stressful. I need to be punished. I need you to teach me a lesson."

Like a man hypnotized, he touched the hem of her skirt, feeling the crisp material crackle. Pushed it upwards, over her bottom. And there it was…the ass that he had been watching now for weeks. Unblemished, round…covered only by the thin material of her pantyhose. Right there, in front of him. Experimentally, he ran a palm over it.

He both felt and heard her sigh. She arched her hips backwards just a little, pushing herself into his hand. He didn't move. Underneath his shocked stillness, his blood boiled.

"Please," she said again. Was that an edge of desperation he heard in her voice? "Give me what I deserve."

He was sick of being taunted. Sick of holding back. Sick of always having to be the good guy. His hand rose, and for a second he looked at it there hovering in the air, almost surprised. Then his brain caught up. It descended on her left ass cheek with a "smack" that seemed to ring out through the room. She gasped and jumped a little in his lap. He watched entranced, the pink that bloomed under the sheer material of her tights.

"Yeah," she said, breathily, her face buried in the pillow at the end of the couch. "Just like that. Harder. Teach me."

Unbelievable. She was getting off on this. And she wasn't the only one. At this point, he was sure she could feel the press of his erection against her stomach, where she lay across him. He raised his hand again. _Smack. _She whimpered.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Booth. Please. Punish me."

_Smack. _Her pantyhose were in the way. They obscured the hotness of her skin, the silky feel of it. She read his mind.

"Take them off. Please. I want to feel your hands."

Without thinking he reached up under the skirt of her dress, felt the elastic around her waist and yanked. There. He had never seen a more lovely shade of pink. _Smack._

Ten times, he took his hand to her bottom. Ten times, she quivered and softly cried out encouragements. He stopped when he realized that her squirming against him was going to make him come in his pants, if he didn't. He was panting, his face feeling as hot as her ass looked. He spoke hoarsely. "Have you learned your lesson?"

She twisted her head backwards. Her eyes were shiny. With pain? With arousal? "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I'll be more careful. Thank you. Thank you."

Instinctively upon seeing her sweet, helpless face, he reached downed, flipped her, scooped her up to cradle her on his lap, holding her tightly. She buried her face in his shoulder and squeezed him back just as hard.

"Sweetheart…I'm so sorry. You just…God, you got me so worked _up…_" He was rocking her, kissing her temple, not believing what just transpired.

"No." She lifted her head from its position at the crook of his neck, leaving wet trails of tears there. "You gave me what I needed. I knew you could. And you needed it, too."

His hand stilled it its smoothing of her hair. "What do you mean, you knew I could?"

"I've watched you. Always so in control. Always knowing exactly what to do." She wriggled on his lap, exacerbating the throbbing torture in the too-tight confines of his pants. "All you needed was an outlet. Something to focus it all on."

He reviewed the past several weeks in his mind…was it just his imagination, or had her skirts been getting a little shorter? Had she been dropping things a little more often, barely bending her knees as she leaned over to pick them up? Had she been taunting him subtly this whole time, hoping to make him break, hoping to bring out the beast in him?

All he needed to do was look in those sparkling, excited eyes to see the answer. In that moment, he was filled with validation. Standing abruptly, he pulled her with him, hefting her up and carrying her. She gasped, genuinely surprised for perhaps the first time that night. "What…where…?"

He paid no mind to her questions, carrying her down the hallway, kicking open the door to his bedroom where he dropped her, not gracefully, onto the bed that she had made up for him. This girl who had been slowly but surely breaking down his will. "You wanted me in control? I'll give you in control," he told her gruffly.

Her eyes widened as she propped herself up on her elbows on the bed. "Mr. Booth…"

"I think you better call me 'Sir' from now on. Take off your dress."

Obediently, she sat up, her trembling fingers untying at her apron and unbuttoning the front of her dress. She was breathing hard in excitement, her cheeks flushed almost as pink as her bottom had been earlier. Almost.

He watched her hesitate for a second before letting the dress fall down over her shoulders. "Keep going. You said you watched me. Tell me what you were thinking."

Her voice quavered as she let the dress go, the top part falling to her waist. "I thought…about your hands."

"What about them?" he demanded.

She pushed the dress down over her hips, leaving her in only a white cotton bra. "I…I could tell…you were a man who knew what he wanted. I imagined your hands grabbing me from behind…rough, you know…holding me against the wall while you ran them all over me. They look so…strong. I imagined it would feel like you were touching me everywhere at once."

"Huh." He considered this, before realizing she had stopped undressing. "Bra, too. What else?"

Immediately, she pulled down her straps before reaching behind her to unhook it. "I thought…of you tying me up. Blindfolding me. Not letting me know when you were going to touch me." The bra dropped off, her perfect breasts capped with their tight little nipples.

Jesus. "Show me," he commanded roughly. "Show me, how you thought about me touching you."

Her mouth formed a pout, and her eyes took on that almost-hurt, little girl expression. She wasn't going to trick him this time. Besides. He was getting a pretty good idea what she _really _wanted.

"I know. You want _me _to touch you. But only good girls are allowed to have what they want. And you haven't been a very good girl, have you?" he mocked softly.

"No, sir," she whimpered, lying back against his pillows.

"That's what I thought. So until you can be learn to be good, you have to touch yourself in front of me like a bad girl."

She let out a small cry of frustration, but obeyed like he knew she would.

"Yes, sir."

She liked to obey. He had told her to touch herself like _he _would touch her, so her hands showed no hesitation. They ran up her body and touched her breasts, squeezed them firmly. Her fingernails circled her nipples lightly, scraping them before the tips closed in to pinch the swollen nubs. She drew them out from her body. She squeezed harder, harder than he ever would have imagined from this quiet, shy girl. A moan left her lips, and it was quite obviously one of pleasure. She repeated her motions, her hips beginning to writhe on the bed.

Here she was, the starlet of most of his recent fuck-fantasies, naked on his bed, stroking herself for his viewing pleasure. It was almost too much. Fuck the "almost." He unzipped his pants, reached inside to relieve the pressure of his poor, penned-up erection. Pulling it out, he began to stroke it slowly, just enough to lessen a little of the ache he had been experiencing. She opened her eyes and saw him, and moaned.

"Please, sir. I want it."

"I don't think so. Keep touching."

Groaning, she gave her nipples a last squeeze, and trailed her hands down her body where they disappeared between her legs.

"Spread your legs. Let me see."

Without shame, she opened herself, glistening and lovely. Dragging her fingers through her wetness, she swirled one around her clit. The noise she made at the contact was heavenly to him. Her eyes slammed shut again. "Oh yeeeeeesss…"

"Good girl. You're being such a good girl," he whispered, unconsciously speeding the pace of his hand on his own cock.

"I want you to touch me sooooo baaaad…" she whimpered, her fingers of one hand flicking at her clit, while two fingers of the other disappeared inside of herself, hips now jerking at their own volition.

Of course he wanted to touch her. But giving in too quickly wasn't what either of them wanted or needed. "Slow down," he commanded.

"Yes, sir," she nearly sobbed, and he knew he had pulled her back from near-climax.

"Now. Tell me what you've learned," he said softly, sitting down next to her. He stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles, softly.

"To be more careful," she moaned, her fingers again working frantically, incited by even his innocent touch.

"Easy, sweetheart. Slow. What else?"

"Not to tease," she forced out, shuddering while his hand trailed down the sensitive skin of her throat.

"Good. And what do you want?"

Her restraint broke. "I want you to fuck me!" she burst out. "_Please, _sir, fuck me. I know I'm a bad girl. Please fuck me like one."

He groaned, his own control snapping at her words. Standing again, he flipped her around. She understood his desire immediately and rose to her knees, thrusting her ass (still a little red from his earlier attentions) off the end of the bed. He grabbed her hips the way she said she had imagined, pulled her toward him and impaled himself on her. She responded immediately, pressing her ass back against him and swallowing the length of his pounding cock. He set a hard, steady rhythm immediately, caressing her bottom with tenderness while he fucked her without it.

"Fuck me harder," she begged.

He wasn't sure he _could _fuck her harder, but he played along. "What do we say?" he forced out.

"_Please _fuck me harder, sir!!"

At this point, he couldn't have denied her if he wanted to. His hips flew into piston pace, and she was moaning, and his thoughts and feelings were a tangle but somehow his body was feeling this was the strangest, hottest thing that had ever happened to him. She was howling now, wild in her orgasm, and he let go. Let go of the whole, awful day, let go of all his control, let go of all his inhibitions and frustrations and stresses. It flowed out of him, into her body, and his last coherent thought before collapsing on top of her back was that she had been right. She had told him that he had needed this, too. He hadn't realized how much.

He panted into her ear, her hair sticking to his mouth.

"Thank you, sir," he heard her say weakly.

"Thank _you," _he corrected, gasping. Realizing he was likely crushing her, he rolled off.

She turned to her side, still breathing hard in her recovery, but smiling. "Worth 300 dollars of scotch?"

Damn. He had forgotten about that. "You might be working that one off for awhile," he told her.

The serene smile on her face didn't change. "I switched it out. The stuff that's pooling by your fireplace? Old Crow. Your good scotch is in the cabinet."

He shouldn't have been surprised by anything from her anymore, but it practically knocked the wind out of him, having been so manipulated. "You're a trip, you know that?"

"To the very best place," she said, her fingers tiptoeing up his chest. "Now, are you going to get up? I'm going to have to charge you extra for having to make this bed twice."

Grinning, he rolled out of the bed, grabbing his clothes and whistling as he made his way back down the hallway, finding that…perhaps not so surprisingly…he was feeling _much _better.

--

He peered into the glass windows of her office before entering, and smirked. Sauntering in, he dropped the brown bag filled with donuts on her desk. "You look _far _too happy for a Monday," he declared.

Swinging her chair around to face him, she gave him a supremely satisfied look. "There's something about being thoroughly worked over by an attractive man that does it for me every time."

"Bones," he hissed, looking behind him. "We're at _work."_

Her grin broadened. "Is this shy guy the same one who spanked me yesterday?"

He silenced her with a hand over her mouth. "I only did that because you asked for it."

She shrugged with a sly look. "Your guilty conscience isn't making an appearance, is it?"

Thinking about it, he shook his head. "It's hard to have a guilty conscience when I see you the morning after and you are smiling like _that." _

She beamed. "So. Tonight. My place."

"Sounds good," he agreed.

"You're cooking," she told him.

"Fair enough."

"And washing the dishes."

He gave her an indignant look. "Whatever happened to 'sir'?"

Swiveling her chair around, she returned her attention to her paperwork and the donut she had just swiped from the bag. "I think 'sir' is still back home scrubbing Old Crow out of his carpet."

"I think 'sir' is going to need some tender loving care after everything you put him through yesterday," he retorted.

"Put _him _through? I'm the one with the sore ass cheeks." Glancing back, she gave him a dazzling smile. "But. Fair enough," she returned his words.

As he left her office, he reflected on just how much of a fantasy yesterday had been. Because in real life, as long as they were together…he didn't have 'bad days' anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I know some people were anxious for me to write one of these based on a certain kinky promo scene, but I had already started this one, and was enjoying it too much to stop. I do hope you'll forgive.**

**Loves and hugs to Mia for looking it over at ungodly hours of the morning. She's the awesomest evah.**

--

The smoke hurt her eyes. The too-loud music made her head ache. The gin in her drink, already weak, had long-since been watered down by the melted ice.

She didn't understand this custom, or the people around her who seemed to enjoy it so. She was an anthropologist, and her job was to understand customs. But the facts she had learned, about the nature of affiliation and recreation and even the mating ritual, floated aimlessly in her head without cohesion. It was missing her own experience, she knew. This was supposed to be fun, relaxing. Maybe even sexy, she thought, as she noted the grabby twosomes moving provocatively on the dance floor. Despite everything it was supposed to be…it just felt empty to her.

But yet, here she was. Trying to understand. She figured she would have at least a better chance here of feeling human, than in the lab. So far…nothing. Still, it was interesting watching the others in this atmosphere, being normal.

Swirling what was left of her drink, she watched out of the corner of her eye as a new patron entered the bar. Aside from a couple making out at the far end of the bar and using the stool as a glorified prop, she was alone in sitting at the barfront; everyone else was on the dance floor, or sitting at one of the dark booths that lined the establishment. The stranger, however, didn't join the throngs as the others had; in fact, he ignored every other person and made straight for the bar, taking a seat a safe distance from the groping couple. The bartender looked up questioningly from wiping off the recently washed glassware.

"Cognac," was the only gruff word the stranger uttered. The bartender gave a curt nod and flipped over the glass he had been drying, turning to grab the new patron's choice of poison. The newcomer strummed his fingers on the bartop and stared downwards at the empty glass in front of him. He obviously wasn't looking for anybody who was in the bar tonight. If Brennan could read him right, he was also hoping to avoid anybody looking for him.

He was an easy target for her observations. So she observed, for lack of anything else interesting in the room. And…there was the fact that he was extremely attractive. Actually, that was potentially an understatement. He had the looks of a man who would never in his life want for female companionship. Too manly to be pretty, not rough enough to be rugged…the perfect intersection of hard and soft. It was hard to get a good sense of what his body looked like under his black leather jacket, but the way his t-shirt pulled over his broad chest was a good indication that it wouldn't disappoint.

She watched as a beautiful, scantily clad young woman danced her way over to the bar. Leaning across it, she ordered a drink, then turned her attention to the handsome stranger. She grinned, giggled and whispered in his ear, pulling at his hands. The man smiled back…politely, it seemed…and resisted her pull, shaking his head. She pouted playfully with her heavily lipsticked mouth, tossing her blonde mane over her shoulder with a seductive look. Realizing it wasn't happening (at least until the man had a few more drinks in him), she snatched her cosmopolitan off the bartop and saluted him with it playfully, before rejoining her friends on the dance floor.

Interesting. He apparently wasn't here for the recreation.

Digging through the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out into his other hand, put it between his lips. Eyes searching the bar, he picked up a nearby book of matches. Tried to strike one. No luck. Tried another. Nothing. It must have gotten wet from the moisture on the bartop. He cursed softly, and made to put the cigarette back in the pack.

Noticing another matchbook near her, where the bar traffic wasn't so heavy, she operated automatically. "Here." She slid one stool over…which still left two between him and her. Extending her arm, she offered the book to him.

His face registered surprise for a second…he probably hadn't even noticed her there, hiding in the shadows of the corner…then noticed her proffered gift. "Thanks," he said quietly, taking it from her. Examining it momentarily, he laid it back on the bar, then addressed her questioning look. "It's a bad habit. Was a weak moment there for a minute but…" He held up the original, wet matchbook. "Should probably take it as a hint."

She nodded. "Probably right." It had been interesting, observing him as she had sat unnoticed. But now, his eyes were on her…an intense, dark brown…and she felt disarmed. She turned back to her watered-down drink, and let him get back to his much fresher one.

"What do you do?"

Her eyes widened when he addressed her again; she hadn't expected the conversation to continue. This man hadn't appeared to want company, and she knew she probably didn't look like the most approachable person at this bar. Nonetheless, he had asked her a question.

She opened her mouth to tell him…she was a successful forensic anthropologist, and a best-selling author. She liked telling people what she did. They were always impressed. Right before they feigned interest, or forced her into pretentious discussion, or, smiling uncomfortably, excused themselves from the conversation, assuming that they had nothing to offer to an interaction with a genius scientist.

The problem with having elevated status was that when you are above everyone else, you are inherently disconnected with everyone else.

"I'm a secretary," she heard herself say. "At a museum."

"Ah." No looks of surprise, intimidation. Just simple acceptance. "Do you like it?"

She imagined it for a moment. "It's a lot of documenting other peoples' ideas. And not having many of my own."

"Huh. I guess neither of us is in the business of ideas."

It was difficult to hear him, over the din of the music and reveling in the room. She hesitated for a moment, before ascertaining that his line of conversation meant that she was perhaps mistaken in assuming he wanted to be alone. She slid off her barstool and walked over to the one next to his, where he politely moved his drink aside to make room for hers. "You?" she asked.

He didn't speak for a second. Then…"I work in construction."

Was he telling the truth? His hesitation made her doubt it. But it didn't really matter tonight, did it? This place wasn't her reality, she had already determined that. Maybe it wasn't his, either. Maybe tonight, they both just needed to be…ordinary. "How's that?"

He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink before looking over his shoulder at her. "It works off as much stress as it creates, at least."

It was possible that his muscular body was the result of daily physical labor, she supposed. She finally asked the question that she had been pondering since he walked in. "So what are you doing here?"

He laughed softly, a husky sound. "I suppose the same thing as everybody else here is doing, in one way or another."

She responded automatically to the stereotype. "Trying to get away from someone or something, or nursing a broken heart."

His look was thoughtful. "Not too far from the truth, I guess." There might have been a moment where a cloud crossed his face…then it disappeared. Lifting his glass, he offered it for a toast. "To getting away from something. And to broken hearts being nursed."

Smiling, she clinked her mostly-empty one against his half-full one. She caught his eye over the rim, and was once again nearly disturbed by her reaction to his gaze. She knew nothing about him, and what she did know was probably a lie. But every time he looked at her, she felt her insides shiver. It was a bit disconcerting.

"You want another?" he asked, referring to the layer of melted ice in her glass.

"Oh. No. I should probably go soon. And I'm driving. So." She looked downwards, away from his oh-so-persuasive gaze.

His silence for a moment made her squirm. Then… "I wish you wouldn't leave right this moment."

It pleased her despite herself, that he was enjoying her company. She flushed lightly. "Why?"

He looked at her intently. "Because. I'm considering trying to convince you that it would be a good idea to spend the night with me. And it may take some time for me to get the guts to do that."

This was crazy. She had talked to this man…what, all of five minutes? He could be anybody. He could be married. He could be a psychotic serial killer, for all she knew. She should write it off as harmless flirting. Pay her tab. Go home.

But she didn't. Instead, she said, "I see. So if you got there…how would you go about convincing me?" She couldn't believe the words falling from her lips. Was she seriously encouraging this stranger to encourage her into a one-night stand?

"Well." He twisted on his barstool, facing her, and suddenly the already-oppressive air felt suffocating. "I might…do…something…" His fingers pushed a strand of hair behind her ear with infinite gentleness, and touched her chin. "Like this…" He leaned into her.

Oh God. Oh God. There must have only been a fraction of a second before the kiss began. But in it, everything narrowed focus. The loud music shrunk in volume to a dull thumping in her ears. The people around them disappeared. The smell of smoke and sweat around them was suddenly drowned out by the smell of his cologne, and the scent of vanilla cognac on his breath, hot against her.

It wasn't long, or forceful, or particularly lustful. It was still, and warm…lingering for just a few seconds. Her mouth parted, just a bit, and he ran the tip of his tongue against her lower lip lightly.

Everything inside of her shivered violently. What was this? It was just a kiss, just a man…but she had never reacted like this before. She had never been so consumed with…whatever this was, that it made her want to throw logic out the window, made her want to forget who she was and what her life was about. When he pulled back, staring at her with coal-black eyes, she had the sudden, irrational thought that he might have cast a spell on her. Then, she felt his hand, still at her chin, trembling slightly. Whatever the spell was, they were both under it.

"I can drive," she whispered, her voice not even sounding to her own ears like it belonged to hers. And it didn't, she supposed. It belonged to the secretary who was here to nurse a broken heart.

He nodded once, not taking his eyes off her. He put a bill on the counter next to his barely-touched drink…it could have been a twenty, a fifty, a hundred, she didn't know. His hand clasped with hers then, and she gripped it tightly, like he might go away should she loosen her hold. They walked through the cloud of smoke in the bar, into the chilled night air, which did nothing yet to bring her back around to reality.

The drive was short, and mostly silent. He put his hand on her thigh, stroked absently over the material of her pants. "I want you to know," he began, his voice low, "That I don't know why I'm doing this. It's not in my character. But all I know is…I want you so bad I can taste it."

She looked over at him. Then, returning her gaze on the road, she stepped harder on the accelerator.

She stopped when he said, "Here." It wasn't a hotel she would normally stay at. She had no illusions that this place would provide turn-down service, a mint on her pillow, or complimentary brunch. But he was right. It would serve the purpose they had tonight.

Her body felt hot while he checked in. The person at the desk would have to be brain dead not to know their intent. A man and a woman, 1:30 in the morning, no bags with them…the woman looked bored as she passed the key over to her handsome stranger. Apparently, this was all ordinary to her.

It was _supposed_ to be ordinary.

They made their way to the room, each step seeming to take infinite seconds. She was in a rush to explore, to be explored. But when they entered the room, and closed the door, and faced one another…she felt she was frozen. _Why?_ This was supposed to be a passionate collision, a fury of fierce kisses and torn clothes and a tumble into the neatly made-up bed. She wanted to forget everything about who she was, drown in the hardness of his body and the softness of his voice. Her body wouldn't cooperate. Her body wanted to luxuriate in this.

He was standing close to her, and she could feel his heat. "Are you okay?" he asked, gently, and for some reason, his simple concern made emotion rush through her. She closed the gap between them, this time being the initiator of the kiss they shared. Slow. Sensual. But here, they had the luxury of privacy, and time. This time, when her mouth parted, he took the invitation and explored it thoroughly, and she near-swooned at the press of his cognac-flavored tongue against her own.

She pushed his jacket down over his arms as they kissed, finding with satisfaction (although not surprise) that his arms were large and strong and solid, flexing pleasingly against her fingertips as they made their way around her waist, pulling her to him like she'd even consider trying to get away. A sigh left her as he trailed his lips down her jaw and the line of her throat, suckling gently.

"I want to kiss you everywhere," he whispered, and her whole body responded to his words. Her trembling fingers found their way under his t-shirt, almost tentatively at first. It seemed like such an intimate liberty to take, with a stranger, despite the now-inevitable knowledge of what they were about to do. But at the touch of her fingers on his bare, muscled flesh he pushed against her, encouraging her. Some of her typical boldness recovered, she took the invitation and pulled his shirt over his head.

The man was built like a statue, but hundreds of times better because this statue was covered with smooth skin and kissed her until her head spun. "Who _are_ you?" she murmured, as her eyes drunk in his shirtless form, not really expecting an answer.

He spun her around unexpectedly, softly kissed her neck while his fingers did their own exploring under the hem of her button-down shirt. "Tonight, I'm yours," he said softly, beginning to toy with the lower buttons. "And you're mine."

Sagging into him as he tortuously opened button by button, she tried to gather the will to tell him that she belonged to nobody, let alone a stranger she had just met. But she couldn't find it. She simply allowed him to undress her in the dim light of the cheap lamp, the only sounds in the room their increasingly labored breathing. When he completed his task and eased the shirt over her shoulders, the brush of the material gave her goosebumps. She felt her bra being unclasped, falling to the floor with the rest of their garments. She found herself almost shy to face him, but did so anyway at the gentle urging of his hands.

He stared at her for long moments; so long she nearly became anxious. She knew men were visual creatures, and all her past lovers had seemed to enjoy looking at her body. But this seemed something more; his eyes burned into her, his gaze almost like a caress against her exposed skin. Her nipples tightened under his dark, intense eyes, and her body flushed. Just when she thought she could no longer bear his hot stare, he moved, reaching for the backs of her thighs. She caught his intent immediately and wrapped her arms around his neck, helping him to lift her. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She kissed him like he was her sustenance while he carried her to the bed and gently laid her in the center of it.

"I've seen incredible things in my life," he told her, trailing a hand down her face to her chest. "But nothing like you…" The backs of his knuckles brushed her pearled nipples, and she whimpered as the electric sensation caused her hips to strain off the bed. Seeming fascinated with the reaction, he did it again, then again, beginning to stroke her breasts in earnest while his other hand began working at the buttons of her pants.

Her body felt a confusion of desires…she wanted him to kiss her again, to touch her, to be inside of her, on top of her, underneath her…but through all of it she seemed to instinctively trust him and his mysterious mastery over her body and her emotions. She raised her hips for him to pull down her pants, feeling breathless to be naked before him.

He wasted no time in accomplishing exactly what he had professed to want to do. He kissed her everywhere…every place he could reach was subjected to the sublime torture of his lips and tongue, soft and unhurried. By the time he trailed a gentle finger over the mound of her panties, she was near-ready to scream for him to lick her, taste her. He looked up at her. "I will," he promised.

He was in her head. He was reading her mind. Somehow, someway…and she was too far gone to rationalize it. She had been from the first time he kissed her, and now, with his tongue slipping tantalizingly under her panties, gently, then more firmly over the most sensitive spots of her body, there was no thinking. There was only his mouth on her, drawing ever-tightening circles around her trembling clitoris, and then his fingers curling inside her. Then there were long minutes of incoherence, sparks bubbling up and down her body to the tune of her cries and his mumbles of encouragement. When her orgasm began, he took hold of both of her hands and held them tightly, giving her an anchor against her storm of pleasure.

When she stopped thrashing against his mouth, she was stunned to find that the intensity of her climax had forced tears from her eyes. _"Damn,"_ she whispered, shakily, and she was somewhat alarmed as he began to kiss his way back up her body. He was still gripping her hands, leaving her unable to wipe away the evidence of how much he had affected her.

He settled in on top of her, his pants having been discarded sometime during his pleasuring of her. The skin-to-skin contact was almost unbearably, emotionally intense. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Don't hide from me," he said, hoarsely, finally releasing her hands and reaching up to cup her face.

"I don't know you," she insisted, her brain resisting these feeling that made no good sense to her.

"You don't?" he asked, and he sounded so incredulous that she opened her eyes in surprise at the question. Drowning in the warmth of his gaze, she was struck somewhat with the familiar…a sense of letting down her guard, opening up, trusting. She had someone in her life whom she had experienced this with. But here, now…it seemed to be coming much faster. Almost too fast. She was overwhelmed by it.

He entered her slowly and she gasped, overwhelmed again, fresh tears forming at how good this felt. Her consolation was that his own eyes, locked on hers, seemed wet as well. "This is…" she trailed off, not knowing how to finish the thought.

"It is what it is. Tonight, it's everything." He thrust, and her eyes fluttered shut.

Tonight she was not Temperance Brennan, and yet was more Temperance Brennan than she had ever been. Stripped down to the simplicity of needing, longing, and fulfilling them both.

He thrust again, deeply, rotating his hips against her. He kissed her. He told her to open her eyes.

She did. And she saw him.

His voice was beginning to sound strained with the effort of making this last as long as his gentle exploration of her body. But nonetheless, he spoke to her. "You know me." He picked up his pace. She followed.

As her next climax traveled through her body, making her blush from belly to chest to face, she realized one shocking thing before she came with a force that drained all her physical, emotional, and mental energy: She believed him.

She fell asleep quickly after their lovemaking was complete. The sun was almost starting to rise. The stranger…was he a stranger?...held her close. Letting down the last of her defenses, she drifted off.

When they woke, she lay quietly while he dressed. They had lives to get back to. Jobs. Identities.

"Which is it?" she asked, suddenly. The honesty behind the emotional act they had shared…it should have been enough. But for some reason, part of her pulled for a spoken honesty about who he was, and what brought him to her. At his look of confusion, she clarified. "Escaping something, or nursing a broken heart. Which is it?"

For a moment, she thought he might not answer her. Then he gave a small, rueful smile. "Little of both, maybe. I wouldn't say it's her I try to escape. But she breaks my heart a little every day. That's what I try to get away from."

Processing this, she slowly nodded. "I think I understand."

"Not yet."

She looked up at him, surprised by his dissent.

"But you're starting to," he told her gently. Leaning down, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and kissed her lips. "Our night was amazing. Thank you." He walked to the open door, gave her a last look, lingering; loving, was the word that crossed her mind. Then…he shut the door behind him, disconnecting from the intersection of their lives.

--

She sat, swirling her straw in her diet cola and staring at nothing in particular. Although she was expecting her lunch date, she started in surprise when she felt the soft kiss on her cheek.

"Hey," he greeted her, and slid in the chair across from her.

"Hey yourself," she said, smirking slightly. Despite the fact that she knew very well he had a late night…he looked fresh, energized. He was a natural at this.

He was laying out files in front of her. "I've got some great leads on the Strattin case. You wouldn't believe what we found out from the daughter during the interview…what?"

Only realizing at that moment that she had been looking at him accusingly, she accepted the fact that she had to say what was on her mind. "It didn't go like it was supposed to."

Blinking, he cocked his head. "Pardon?"

"Stranger in a bar. Quick fuck. Leave without a word. That's how it was supposed to go."

"I hadn't realized these things were scripted," he said, eyebrows raised. "I thought there was some room to improvise."

"There is. But…" She wasn't sure what to say…how to explain just how surprised she had been by her emotional reaction during their interlude. She was having fun in this relationship. She was having fun playing with him. But last night…

He sighed softly, reading her in that way that always threw her off a little bit. "Bones. I know what we've been doing is…more your area. But you know…we don't just leave Booth and Bones behind when we play. There are parts of yourself you just don't forget. No matter how invested in a role you are. Right?"

She gave him a suspicious look. "I guess."

Studying her for just a second, a smile broke out on his face. "Hey. Sorry. We'll get back to the crazy stuff, 'kay? I'm still waiting for you to be my librarian." He winked.

"You have a dirty mind," she teased him, deciding to let her questions go and accept his explanation. But deep down, she wondered…she had no doubt she could handle his dirty mind. It was his tender heart she struggled with. And with just how close it was coming to her own…


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: The people demanded it. And I work for the people. :D**

**--**

The words were starting to swim before his eyes. Blinking hard, he turned back to the worksheet he had been provided. "The Administration Procedure Act," he murmured. Where the hell…eyeing the large stack of tomes in front of him, he tried to ascertain from their titles which might contain the information he needed. Finally, he gave up. He stood and shuffled to the information desk.

"Excuse me. Where would I find information about the Administration Procedures Act?"

The woman behind the counter looked up from her own book, eyes seeming huge behind her thick-rimmed glasses. "That would be in the administrative law section_," _she informed him. "You are in the constitutional law section." She gestured to the sign.

He struggled to stay patient. "Okay. Where's the administrative law section?"

"Over on the East side of the library. In 8a, past the tort law stacks."

Following the line of sight from her finger, he saw endless rows of books that all looked the same, and he groaned internally. "Maybe you could draw me a map? Or at least give me the zipcode, so I can Mapquest it?"

Blinking, her face showed no amusement. "I'm sure if you just follow my directions, you'll find what you're looking for."

Briefly he considered asking her if she ever heard of sarcasm (or even of humor, period), then decided it was likely to be a lost cause. He forced a smile and a thank you, and headed back to outpost.

Why did he need to know about this crap anyway? He wasn't a lawyer. The only law that was even relevant to his job was criminal law. But some higher-up jerk had decided that as a continuing education project, the agents should brush up on important legislation through history. Which was _really _helpful when he was face-to-face with dangerous criminals. God forbid he didn't know the Administration Procedures Act then.

He had already been here for three hours. At this rate, he'd be here for three more. Staring at the taupe walls, the black-bound stacks of books, and the big clock on the wall that taunted him with every tick.

Glancing back at the desk, he had thought that he could always just look at the librarian. The thought was followed by a soft chuckle. It would take some imagination to make _that _interesting. But being that he had never been so bored in his life, his imagination was in full swing. She looked young, at least; not the grandmotherly type that he had remembered manned the school libraries when he was a kid. She had on barely any make-up, and what he could see of her clothes—a cardigan over a blouse buttoned up as far as it would go—sort of _looked _grandmotherly. But if she let her hair down from the harsh bun it was in, took off those glasses, maybe smiled a little…she might actually be pretty.

The sound of throat-clearing jolted him out of his reverie, at which point he realized, to his mild horror, that the librarian was looking at him disapprovingly, apparently unhappy with him staring at her. Immediately, he shifted his eyes back down to the open book in front of him. Damn. He just could _not _catch a break today.

He heard a rustling, and the soft sound of footsteps on the carpeted floor. Any observer would now think his book was the most interesting thing in the world. _Just keep looking down. Don't look at her. _He wasn't sure he could handle being chastised for ogling the librarian right now.

"Are you finished?" The voice was all business.

"Huh?" he squeaked out, looking up at her with terror.

"With the books." She nodded towards the perilous stack on the table beside him. "Can I reshelf them?"

"Oh." He hoped the supreme relief he was feeling wasn't evident in his voice, but this didn't seem like the kind of woman who would miss anything. "Uh, yeah. Sure. I'm using this one, but I'm done with those."

The corners of her lips turned up in what might have been an amused smile. It wouldn't have surprised him in the least if she were enjoying his discomfort. She said nothing, though, as she carefully lifted the heavy books and stacked them on the wheeled cart next to her. It appeared she was taking her good old time, and he fidgeted as she hovered over him, smelling surprisingly soft, like vanilla and baby powder. Lest she think he was staring at any inappropriate parts of her, he looked downwards again, which turned out to be a mistake.

Holy shit. Her heels were sensible, and her pencil skirt fell modestly below her knees. But neither of those things could disguise the fact that she had the legs of a runway model, slim and shapely and far too close to him for comfort.

His gulp was audible, and he _refused _to look at her, somehow, irrationally certain that she was laughing at him. Still, when she turned away, pushing the cart back towards the stacks, he felt helpless in the urge to turn his head and watch her walk away out of the corner of his eye, her shockingly enticing, curvy hips swaying with the motion.

He had obviously been here too long, and was getting delirious, he decided. He had to get out of here. But he had three more questions to answer, and was surrounded by ominous, bold-lettered signs that stated "LEGAL BOOKS ARE _NOT _TO LEAVE THE LIBRARY." Shit.

Glancing around surreptitiously, he took inventory of those around him. On the far side of the room, an older man in a suit was browsing through documents of case law. A younger woman, probably a student, was hunched over in one of the carrels in the corner. Neither were paying attention to him. The librarian with the knockout legs was nowhere to be seen. Moving slowly and quietly, he flicked open the clasp on his briefcase and opened it. If he could just slip this book out, he could work on the last few questions at home then bring it back tomorrow, nobody being the wiser…

Before he could squirrel away the book, the lid to the briefcase closed with a _snap _that made him nearly fall out of his seat.

"What do you think you are doing?" came the cold voice from behind him.

He had faced all kinds of terrifying things in his work; despite that, he was sure that he had never cringed so hard in his life, as he was doing now. "I was just…I mean…I just was going to…"

"I think I know exactly what you were doing," the librarian informed him, taking the book from his hands and looking over his shoulder at the name on the library card he had tossed carelessly on the table. "Mr. Booth."

Fuck. How was he going to get out of this one? Trying to pull his anxieties under control, he smiled his best smile. "Look, Ms…." He searched for a name. She said not a word, refusing to help him. "Miss," he settled on. "I apologize. I've just been here for so long, and I've been under so much stress…I work for the F.B.I., you see… I just forgot what I was doing for a moment. How about I just go on home…leave all your precious books here…and I'll come back tomorrow to use the ones I need?" He searched her face for any hint of sympathy or understanding or charm. Nothing.

"I don't think so, Mr. Booth," she said, softly. "I think you better come with me."

_Seriously? _He felt like he was being sent to the principal's office, and he fought another surge of fear. _There's nothing she can do to you, Seeley. What can she do? Revoke your library card? Smack your fingers with a ruler?_

"Do we really have to do this?" he asked weakly.

She smiled that same, enigmatic tiny smile as he had seen before. "Oh, yes. We really do." She motioned to him with a crooked finger. "This way."

He followed her, mentally rehearsing exactly how he was going to explain to his superiors why he was no longer allowed in the legal library. _You see, I had fully intended on doing the assignment, then I realized that the librarian there was most likely a dominatrix in disguise and I just had to escape before she convinced me into going to her dungeon…_

It wasn't a dungeon, but it was small and windowless and when she shut the door behind them, he felt the walls closing in on him. "I'm not sure if it's really necessary to…"

"Sit down, Mr. Booth," she interrupted, sitting behind the desk that was stacked with books and papers.

Obediently, he dropped to the chair in front of the desk, which was no more comfortable than the one he had been sitting in outside this office. He squirmed against the wooden back, but stayed quiet, having realized that talking didn't appear to be that effective.

She looked at him steadily over the horned, tortoise-shell rims of her glasses, arms crossed in front of her on the desk. "You seem so anxious to leave my library," she noted.

"It's not that…" He stopped immediately at her look. "Yes." He looked down, chastened.

"You know…" She leaned back in her chair. "I find that when people are anxious to leave my library…they haven't been reading the right books."

He had no idea how to respond to that.

"Here." She handed over the tome that he had been trying to steal away in his briefcase. "Read yours. Aloud. Anywhere."

"Uh…" He flipped open the book, and looked up at her questioningly. She nodded at him to continue. "…Everyone shall be subject only to such limitations as are determined by law solely for the purpose of securing due recognition and respect for the rights and freedoms of others and of meeting the just requirements of morality, public order and the general welfare…"

"That's enough." She reached for one of the books on her desk…a small paperback. "Now, mine."

Dumbfounded, he reached over the desk to take the proffered book. It had a bookmark in it. He flipped it open to that page, and cleared his throat… "…he stood shocked, wide-eyed, knowing he had been caught but unable to make a move to correct the situation, or to escape it. Restless twitches ran up and down his body while he gazed helplessly at her nudity through the window, her full lips parted in her own surprise at being watched. Her hand moved, and he expected her to pull the blinds, cover herself, call the cops, anything but what she actually did, which was trail her fingertips across her own chest and down to nestle in the certain searing heat of her…oh _God." _His fingers shook, and he almost dropped the book. Looking up at the woman across the desktop, he found her smiling that same, barely there, amused smile.

She pulled off her glasses and sat them carefully on the desk, before standing and walking around it. "What do you think, Mr. Booth?" Placing her hands on the edge of the desk in front of him, she hopped slightly and perched there, removing the knit cardigan she was wearing and tossing it back onto the chair. "Which passage of the two do you find the most…stimulating?" Reaching up, she pulled on the hair band that kept her tight bun in place. Shiny waves fell loosely to her shoulders.

It was certainly not fair at all to be asking these questions of a man who couldn't breathe right now, let alone talk. He had thought earlier that in the right circumstances, this harsh woman might be pretty. Not even in the farthest reaches of his dirty little brain did he imagine that she might be a knockout sex goddess, into which she had obviously transformed in front of his very eyes. He just sat, slack-jawed.

"Maybe I was wrong." She bit one full, bottom lip. "Maybe I misjudged you, and you _are _the kind of man who is better off reading dry legalese. Maybe stealing a library book is the most dangerous thing you'll ever do…"

His eyes shot up to her questioning blue-gray ones. "No," he said hoarsely.

"Really?" she questioned, eyebrows rising. The fingers of her one hand fiddled with the top button of her white blouse, before popping it open. "Because I'm getting a little worried that despite everything I've shown you, you might not be able to handle the deal I was going to offer."

That was it. This lady had been jerking him around all night, intimidating him. Now she got him all hot and bothered and thought he wasn't going to take _full _advantage of it? No way, book babe. Abruptly he stood, the chair he was on teetering before clattering backwards onto the floor. He grasped her knees, pushed them open to spread her legs so he could stand between them. It was her turn to gasp as the slim skirt split with a loud tearing sound. "I can handle anything," he promised her, his hands coming up to her face to pull it to his.

If he had any remaining illusions that she was cold, they ended now. Her lips were hot and delicious and aggressive on his own, and he strove to match it, not wanting to give up the little bit of power he felt he gained in this situation. The ripped skirt allowed a freedom of motion that she took full advantage of, crossing her ankles behind his back and pulling him to her with the strength of her legs. Her intensity was shockingly arousing.

"Very good," she whispered, pulling away from his mouth. Her fingers worked nimbly on the remaining buttons of her blouse. "Perhaps you might persuade me after all to disregard your earlier error."

He backed off slightly, wild-eyed at the woman in front of him, her fair skin pink with desire, her eyes heavy-lidded, but her voice still perfectly articulate. Was he really going to do this? Not only with someone he just met, but somebody he wasn't even sure he actually liked?

The final button popped open on her shirt. It fell open, revealing ample breasts nearly spilling out of her white, satin demi-bra. She laid back on the desk, hand groping until she found what she was looking for. She slipped the glasses back on her face and smiled up at him, almost demurely.

Well, now he was helpless. He couldn't even explain it, the level on which this appealed to him; her cool demeanor intersected with raw sexuality, his disciplinarian turned jerk-off fantasy come true. There was something about her quiet air of superiority that made him want to make her scream all the louder. There was something about impossible women that always got him hot. His throbbing crotch making up his mind for him, he swooped down on her, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the smooth vanilla skin of her chest, making her arch. One of his hands searched for purchase on the desk while the other tugged at the material of her bra. Unwittingly, he hit one of the stacks of books on the edge of the desk, and it wobbled precariously.

"Mr. Booth," she scolded breathily. "Haven't you learned anything about respecting the books in this library?" She grabbed the back of his head, urging his mouth down her body. "We'll teach you yet…"

Oh, God. The skin of her belly was silky and heated, and he groaned when he reached the high waist of her skirt. Damn these impromptu sexual encounters which didn't allow time for full nakedness. The scent of vanilla and arousal was more intoxicating the further down her body he kissed. Finally, in submission, he sank to his knees in front of the desk, hearing the pleased sound she made while she swung one leg over his shoulder.

She was wearing a thong. He was briefly surprised, considering how conservative was the rest of her wardrobe, and almost laughed at himself for the feeling. He was surprised that the woman who forced him to read an erotic novel, and who had just undressed in front of him, was wearing a thong? He should have been surprised that she was wearing panties at all. Well, it was a moot point. He pulled them off of her and tossed them carelessly to the corner of the tiny office. Then his mouth melted into her like he was eating ice cream. He had never been so gratified to hear a woman moan, until he realized to his annoyance that he was moaning right along with her, at the taste of her.

His tongue flicked at her, making her writhe, and that was enough incentive to make him go faster. The air around him smelled like books and sex, two things he had never associated but now would until the end of time. He wasn't even sure he could open a novel anymore without getting a hard-on. Right now, one of his hands crept down to his pants, hoping to relieve the exquisite pressure of the erection bound there. Almost as if reading his mind, she raised her head and looked at him sternly through the magnified lenses of her glasses. Immediately, his hand abandoned its downward journey, instead moving up around her body. Finding the nipple of her right breast hard and erect, even through the slight padding of her bra, he captured and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Pleased by his change of heart, her head dropped back once more, and her hips thrust in a steady cadence against his busy lips and tongue. There would be no satisfaction in the world like making this woman come. If her sighs and soft mutterings were any indication, that moment would come soon.

Suddenly, there was a sharp tug on his hair, almost painful. Cursing quietly, he followed the pull. She was amazing. She was going to deny herself an orgasm just because she knew it would give him too much pleasure.

"You're good with your tongue," she whispered, pushing herself up to a sitting position. She reached for the front of his pants. "Let's see what the rest of you can do."

And there was _that _option. He was tired of messing around with her, anyway. He pulled those ridiculous glasses off of her so he could kiss her harder, while she pulled at his belt buckle. They fell easily, pooling at the floor around his ankles. He tried to shake them off, but they wouldn't make it past his shoes. Too bad. Like he had told her, he could handle anything. He ran himself up and down her slickness a few times, testing her, and found that whatever someone like her was thinking or feeling at this moment, she was just as ready as he was; possibly more. He prepared to plunge inside her with ferocity…but paused as she looked up at him with wide blue eyes. That vanilla-and-baby-powder smell was pungent again.

"Please," she whispered.

She almost made him want to sob. Not only was their sexiness underneath her initially harsh exterior…there was also sweetness. He knew it. He knew it, and despite his frustration with her, he wanted to find it. And he wanted to please her. In spite of himself, he eased into her slowly, making her big beautiful eyes fall shut in rapture.

"Yeah," she breathed. "I…_oh."_

Satisfied that he had made the woman with the library science degree lose her ability to speak, he gripped at her hips and pulled her tightly against him. She was like being wrapped in hot, tight velvet.

"So," he said through clenched teeth, sliding out of her slowly before pumping into her again even slower. "Are my…discretions…forgiven?"

Her eyes opened again, and she spoke in a raspy voice. "For trying to steal books? Yes. But for trying to sneak out of here _after _you looked at me with fuck-me eyes? Never."

"I'm fucking you now," he whispered, low and into her ear while he picked up his pace.

"Finally. It's amazing how a little playtime changes things," she sighed, right before he held onto the edges of the desk and thrusting with all he was worth. Then she seemed to have no more words; her arms flailed wildly for something to hold onto, and sent the stack of books beside her clattering to the floor.

He found that making her come was the one thing that could make her not care about books one little bit.

--

She was feigning annoyance, but he knew better from the smile twitching at her mouth while he nuzzled the back of her neck. "Booth. This is not conducive to reading."

"Really?" Her hair was pulled back again, leaving a lovely expanse of bare skin for him to suck. "That only seems fair, anyway." He grabbed the forensics journal in front of her and tossed it to the foot of the bed, ignoring her indignant sound. "You weren't letting me concentrate on my reading yesterday."

"Give it up," she told him, flipping to face him. "You know what I think? I think you are decidedly happier when I boss you around a little bit." She winked and reached over on the bed stand, grabbing the infamous glasses. "Mr. Booth," she punctuated with a smile.

He smirked. "How would I have managed to work with you for all these years, if that _didn't _learn to enjoy your bossing?"

"Touché," she laughed, accepting the kiss that he dove in and placed on her lips.

"Spend the night," he requested, cupping her breast and kissing her throat to be further persuasive.

"I spent the night last night," she retorted, making a grab for her journal again.

"That's not how I remember it. I remember sharing my bed with a sexy librarian."

"And she wasn't good enough for you?" she teased.

He looked at her solemnly. "She can't hold a candle to you." He saw her flush hard, and was amazed. Just like the sexy librarian, his Bones was a study in contrast…she could talk dirty without batting an eye, but a little pillow talk and she blushed like a little girl.

"One more night. But tomorrow I have to go home." She reached out and put a playful, chastising palm to his face. "Remember. Fun, we said. Not serious."

"I remember," he agreed.

But to be fair, he also remembered a time when they said "just partners."

It was amazing how a little playtime could change things.

--

**A/N: A little reminder that even those of us who have been doing this forevah love to hear your feedback. And I just love to hear from you, period. We doc students are lonely peoples. Reach out and touch someone. Preferably me. Hee.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: A clarification, for those who might be wondering: These little scenarios are intended to be pure fantasy. The fun with role playing is that if your imagination is good enough, you don't even really **_**need **_**props. So no, I'm not imagining B/B are infiltrating public places in this one. It's all good, clean fun right in your own home!:-D Hee.**

**--**

She hated this. It had been less than a decade since she herself had been part of this institution, but she had never been like this. Carefree, hedonistic, oblivious to all the things that academia stood for. Perhaps that was a bit unfair. There were a few students who seemed earnest in their pursuit of higher learning. But it seemed as if the majority of them were watching the clock to leave class and begin planning their next date, trip home, or trip to the bar. Their bored eyes stared at her accusingly while she taught them the simplest principles of anthropology, as if she were somehow at fault for keeping them from their much-more-important personal lives.

She agreed to teach this undergraduate course as a personal favor for a friend. Never again, she had decided as she had spent all of the preceding night grading the most poorly written papers she had ever read. These kids acted as if they didn't even _need _an education. Some of them more than others, she noted, glaring at the guiltiest culprit as he stretched out in the back row, smiling and whispering at the girl sitting next to him. Star quarterback. Big man on campus. The epitome of everything that Temperance Brennan loathed.

"And I expect you all to review MLA style before turning in your next assignments," she said, her voice necessarily raising as the clock clicked to a quarter after and the students popped out of their seats as if an internal alarm had gone off. They filed past her, giggling and talking to one another. "Seeley, I need to talk to you for a moment. Please stay behind."

The object of her singling out had been sauntering out the door with several of his friends, who immediately "oooooooh'd" dramatically at his being addressed by the professor. The boy himself seemed unconcerned, if not a little surprised as he glanced back at her. "Sure thing, Dr. B." He slapped his friends on the shoulders. "I'll see you guys at practice," he told them before retreating back into the classroom, shutting the door without even being asked. "What's up?" he asked her casually, hopping backwards and onto one of the small student desks.

Having taken a seat on the swivel chair behind her own, larger desk, she felt uncomfortably dwarfed by this student. He was a big guy to begin with…tall, muscular, broad shoulders…and now he was elevated by his position on the desk. She put aside her discomfort.

"This class has a prerequisite basic writing course," she informed him.

He smiled, the same smile she had seen him use a hundred times on the cheerleader who sat across from him. "Oh yeah?" It _was _an attractive smile, and that didn't go unnoticed to Brennan. She tamped down her body's instinctive responses to a very good-looking, very well-structured man. This guy was only 20 or 21, but apparently there were parts of her that didn't really care.

"Yes. Did you _take _that prerequisite course, Seeley?"

Leaning back on his palms, his smile never wavered. "Nah. I think my coach got that waived for me. I'm a senior, and I needed to take a social science course to graduate. So I didn't have time to do the writing thing."

It was rare that her overly-rational mind allowed her to feel the full extent of her anger, but this kid's dismissive sense of entitlement was infuriating her. "I see. So because you play football, the rules don't apply to you."

His face went from charming to conciliatory, a look that she was sure had caused a million exceptions to be made for him. "Nooo. He just thought I'd be able to do okay without it."

"Well he was wrong." She tossed his paper on the desk in front of her, turned his direction so he could clearly see the red "F" scrawled across the cover page. "This is one of the worst papers I've ever seen at the college level."

Brow furrowing, he regarded the paper. "That's not good."

"Indeed. Which puts into my mind the suggestion that you should drop this class, take the writing class, and come back when you are more prepared."

"But I can't do that. Then I won't graduate on time. I wanna graduate before I go to the pros."

"Perhaps you should have thought about that before you decided to blow off both class and university requirements."

He paused, and she could almost see his brain working. This was a guy who was used to getting his way, but he had already figured out that she wasn't a person who was easily charmed, or who deferred to the status he was given as a star athlete. Several expressions passed over his face, and she waited patiently while he worked through the dilemma. He appeared to end up on frustration. "Well…it's not my fault, though. It's yours."

It made her want to laugh, the childishness of his argument. Seriously? _That's _what he came up with? "It's _my _fault," she said slowly. "That you have barely passed any of the exams so far this semester, and that you wrote a failing paper."

"The paper is because Coach made me stay an extra 2 hours after practice the night before it was due, because I was distracted all day and kept messing up. The fact that I can't get this anthropology stuff, that I can't even think…it's because of you."

"I'm sorry you don't like my teaching style, Seeley. I would have been happy to help you if you had asked earlier in the semester, but now it's too late…"

"I don't even know what your teaching style is, Dr. B.," he interrupted. "I _try _to concentrate. It doesn't matter. You're too hot."

She blinked, wondering if she heard him right. "Excuse me?"

"Even today. I jerked off right before class, thinking maybe that would help. But as soon as you came in, and I saw your ass in that skirt? God. It's all I can think about. How am I supposed to concentrate on anthropology?"

This was a new one, even for her. She let out a breath. "I don't suppose I need to tell you just how inappropriate this is," she told him, telling herself that the hot flush that came over her body right then was just embarrassment at having to deal with this situation, and certainly _not _because she had always sort of had an affinity for frank, dirty talk…perhaps because for an overly-literal woman, subtle seduction was sometimes lost on her. But right now, her student was being very, _very _clear.

"Hell, I know it's inappropriate." His handsome face looked legitimately frustrated. "But it's _true. _I've been flubbing passes and catches during games and practice, not sleeping at night, screwing up dates that I'm on…all because I'm constantly thinking about that time you dropped that piece of chalk on the floor and bent over to pick it up. Or the way you lick your lips when you are thinking real hard. Or the way you say my name."

"Seeley…" she began.

"Yeah. Just like that." His eyes glazed over, and for the first time she considered the fact that he might actually be telling the truth and not just making half-assed excuses for his screw-ups. It _was _a half-assed excuse, to be sure…but it wasn't made up. "Look, Dr. B.," he breathed, nodding downwards. "I can't even control myself right now."

She looked, and was unable to restrain herself before her eyes widened. Despite his pleading for sympathy, he was unabashedly displaying himself, not making one effort to hide the enormous bulge in his Wrangler jeans. And despite her knowledge that his behavior should disgust her, she was decidedly undisgusted. "I see," she sighed.

He was being completely honest with her, she could tell, but that didn't stop him from recognizing leverage when he had it and using it to his advantage. That was the innate gift of the privileged and entitled…he was reading the curiosity in her eyes, the attraction. His gaze was a molten brown. "Touch it." It wasn't a demand, but there was an air to his voice that made "no" seem like the wrong answer, or at least a stupid one.

Her mind, while not exactly reeling, paused in adjusting to the new possibilities. Very unethical, this thing he was suggesting. That, up against the fact that he _was _almost impossibly attractive…he was a young man, but a _man, _nonetheless…and his discussion of his desire for her had undoubtedly turned her on. She cocked her head, and he took the silence as further invitation to persuade her. Which, to be fair, it was.

"I know it's probably been awhile since you were with a guy my age. I bet you go out with those old professor types, don't you? Us younger guys might not have those years of experience. But we can go again…and again…and again…" He slid off the desk, letting her take in all of him.

She hated this job. And right now, all she could think of was that she deserved _some _kind of reward for putting up with it. Right now, the reward that looked good was tall and tanned and wearing a football jersey and a giant hard-on, just for her. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was lunchtime. No one was going to be needing this classroom for another half-hour. She stood, brushing her fingertips against the cool top of the desk in front of her. "You're telling me that the only reason you're performing badly in academics is because you are fantasizing too often?"

"Of you." He stepped closer as well. The desk was still between them, but he leaned over it, his fingertips inches away from her own and his eyes earnest. "I used to get all C's, at least. But now…it's always you."

"A deal. Rewrite the paper. After your frustrations are…relieved. If it's better, and your test scores improve…you may finish the class."

She wouldn't have been surprised if he had launched himself over the desk and immediately started pawing at her, but she was surprised and somewhat gratified that instead, his eyes widened, and he leaned across the obstacle slowly, almost hesitantly, before placing a careful kiss on her lips. She leaned forward as well, encouraging him past his tentativeness, and was pleasantly dazed by the skillfulness in the play of his mouth on hers. He was young, but not completely inexperienced. And, unsurprisingly, he seemed to have some degree of natural talent, as well.

"Jeez, Dr. B.," he whispered as they parted, and she set her hand on top of his, fingers curling around and tugging gently. He took her invitation, following her pull around the desk.

"Sit, Seeley." She gave him a slight push into the swivel chair she had previously occupied. This was probably the first and last time this particular student would find his position at the head of the class. "I'm doing this to renew your interest in your education, you know that, right?" Her nimble fingers worked at his belt buckle, and he scrambled to help her.

"Yeah. It's working." He hissed as her fingers crept up the front of his jersey to feel the results of his constant athletic practicing, and he lifted up off the seat to work his Wranglers down over his narrow hips.

"We'll see." One of her hands pressed against his hard, flat stomach, while her eyes roamed appreciatively over his tented boxers. "I hope this isn't just a ploy to relieve your sexual urges. I can't imagine that you wouldn't find another outlet for those; your position in this university likely elevates you to the status of the superior mate for most girls your age."

His hands were caressing the sides of her breasts now, through her conservative jacket. "Most girls my age don't even like sex. They do it because they think it's all we want, not because they like it." Those hands dipped instead, running over the nipples protruding through the thinner material of her blouse. "I knew you weren't like that. I could tell…the way you move. The way you talk. You love sex, don't you?"

Ignoring his question (to which the answer was undoubtedly YES), she asked one of her own. "Is that true? That it's all you want?" She reached under her skirt and pulled at her panties.

"Yeah," he breathed. "But it also makes me happy when they come." The last word of his sentence was lost in a soft moan as she cupped his length through his underwear, this part of him feeling every bit as hard and solid as the rest of his sculpted body.

"That result, much like doing well in school, comes with effort." She squeezed him, the throbbing, virile feeling of him in her hand making her own body heat up. In truth, this particular young man could excite her with very little effort. But he didn't need to know that.

Taking it as a challenge, he ran a hand up under her skirt, his strong fingers finding her slick and incredibly responsive to his surprisingly gentle touch. Her response…a shuddering sigh and a wobbling of the knees…brought a smile to his face. "Do you think I'll pass that test, Dr. B.?" he asked, almost innocently, while he eased down his shorts, exposing the one of the many reasons he had to be so damn cocky and sure of himself.

That was enough playing. It was time to give this young man an education he'd never forget.

In one smooth motion, her skirt was lifted and she was straddling him on the swivel chair, enjoying his look of wide-eyed surprise. She didn't allow the luxury of full contact, however, and she hovered on her knees above him, taking his cock in her hand and placing the very tip into position. The pressure against her felt incredible, but she resisted both the pull of her own arousal, and his almost immediate attempts to thrust up into her and kiss her. One of her hands went to his cheek, refocusing him, while the other very literally reached down and grabbed him by the balls. Her grip wasn't hard enough to be painful, but it very effectively stilled his desperate motions if he hoped to _avoid _pain, leaving them both quite unfulfilled.

"Seeley," she said, as sternly as she could manage in this position. "What is the genre of writing that is based on fieldwork?"

"What?" he croaked, his eyes becoming even rounder. "I…I don't know. I don't remember."

"Yes, you do." She squirmed slightly, tortuously, on the head of his oversensitized penis. "We've discussed this in class many times. It's one of the basic principles of anthropology."

"Ah…ah…" He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, searching the barely-accessed part of his brain. "Ethnology? Ethnography?" He looked at her hopefully, and she couldn't resist letting a few seconds tick by before answering.

"Yes. Ethnography. Very good, Seeley. See? You _do _remember. You just need the proper motivation." She slid down just a few inches, allowing the tip of him to finally enter her. Groans emanated from his throat while a sigh came from hers, but her hand kept its grip on his balls, letting him know under no uncertain terms who was in control here. Perspiration was beading on forehead. She rewarded him, additionally, with a deep kiss, which he returned eagerly, his tongue doing things that she was not currently allowing the rest of his body to do. It felt delicious, and it was with regret that she pulled away. "Now. Who was the anthropologist who studied adolescence in Samoa? Who discovered that greater sexual permissiveness appeared to lead to less stress?"

"Oh, God," he said mournfully, and she felt almost bad about making him think right now. But he needed to learn _somehow. _"Is it…I don't know."

"Think," she said, firmly, wanting him to get this right as much as he did so that her _own _throbbing sex could be relieved. "It was the day we discussed cultural anthropology in class. I believe you were preparing for a game later that evening. You had on your jersey." He still looked blank, and she paused thoughtfully. "It was warm. I was wearing my black capris and a light-blue, vee-neck top that day."

That seemed to jar his memory. "Margaret Mead?" he blurted out.

"Oh, thank God," she sighed, and let herself fall another few inches. Now she was half-way impaled on him, and getting more anxious than ever. Again, they kissed, his mouth feeling ever more frantic on hers, and she was starting to feel her own resolve slipping. All she wanted to do was grind against him, let him fuck her and pass the only test he seemed to truly care about right now. But she couldn't bring herself to do it…after all, a young man's _education _was at stake here. "Now. Who is currently the foremost expert in forensic anthropology in the United States?" She forced the last question out.

This time, he didn't even hesitate, his mind apparently recognizing the consequences and accessing the information like his very life depended on it. "Temperance Brennan!" he shouted out, confidently. Triumphantly.

A small smile crossed her face. "Perhaps you are not a lost cause after all, Seeley Booth," she said, huskily, as she both released her grip on him and allowed herself to drop fully onto him, letting the chair begin to rotate slowly while they began a human behavior that existed far longer than anthropology existed to study it.

--

Her partner looked up at her in surprise from his desk. "Bones. What are you here for? We don't have a case."

She looked at him a little defensively. "I just thought I could bring _you _lunch for a change."

Finally noticing the cartons of food she was carrying, he beamed. "You're awesome." He slipped out from behind his desk and enfolded her in a hug just innocent enough to keep them out of trouble. Then he pulled back and looked at her mischievously. "And you missed me." He snatched the cartons from her hands and made his way back to his desk.

Rolling her eyes, she sat on the edge of said desk. "Don't start that again."

He merely grinned at her.

She knew one way to throw him off. "You know what I enjoyed about yesterday?"

Predictably, his grin faded, and he gulped a little.

"I almost felt like I got a real glimpse of you, when you were younger. All egotistical, cocky confidence on the surface…but underneath…" She leaned forward. "A pussycat. Not too different from now." She winked at him.

Unpredictably, he didn't take her bait. "You know what I enjoyed about yesterday?" he countered.

"Hmm?"

"Kissing you." Reaching for her head, he pulled it the last few inches so that her lips met his. Briefly, although possibly _not _enough so to keep them out of trouble. "Hey," he whispered when they separated. "I've got one we can do next. How about the FBI agent and the forensic anthropologist?"

She laughed lightly, if not a little uncomfortably. "That is always a good standby," she admitted.

"I'm partial to it, myself," he told her.

His hand was still at her cheek, and she couldn't resist leaning into it a bit. Maybe she _had _missed him. Just a little. Somehow, the realization made her even _more _jumpy. "Hey. Are we going to eat, or what?"

The mischievous look was back. "If I give you the wrong answer, are you not going to let me have the food?"

"Possibly," she agreed, smiling, feeling more comfortable in the memory of the last time she had _complete _control over what was happening between them.

But real life, unlike playtime, was rarely so uncomplicated.

--

**A/N: I might be slowing down a little bit again with the writing…I'm back on the dissertation track, and can only procrastinate so much. *cries*. I'm not happy about it either. But MAN I sort of want my degree. **

**Your encouragement is always much appreciated. I heart you all.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hellooooo, ff friends. I'm still pretty busy with other projects, but I figured that I should do a little something here in celebration of the upcoming, long awaited Bonesday this week. And now I find out that there IS no Bonesday this week. As if I needed ANOTHER reason to dislike George Bush. Gah.**

**This one's a bit short, but I hope you find it enjoyable. Hugs and Misses to you all!**

--

She swung her legs nervously over the edge of the table, the white paper sheet underneath her crinkling with the motion and reminding her how ridiculous she was being. Stilling her movements, she forced herself to take a few breaths. She didn't get nervous by doctor's appointments, and this seemed a silly time to start. Writing it off to frustration at having been waiting for so long, she self-consciously pulled at the flimsy gown that covered her. This wasn't an emergency appointment. Maybe she should just put her clothes back on and forget about the whole thing…

The thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in!" she said quickly. Damn. There went that idea.

The doctor entered, holding a manila folder and giving her a winning smile, made for putting patients as ease. "Hi there…." He glanced inside his folder. "Temperance. How are you doing today?"

She gave a small start at the sight of him. "Where's Dr. Beckett?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Beckett's on vacation this week. Don't worry, I'll take care of you." Holding the folder open, he skimmed it. "Should be pretty easy…she says you're her healthiest patient."

Smiling uncertainly, she played with one of the ties on the front of her gown. "Maybe I should just wait until she comes back." Another "ridiculous" moment. She was certain that this doctor was as qualified as any other…this was an excellent hospital. But this man looked much younger than her usual doctor. And much more casual. And much, _much _handsomer. In fact, it was somewhat distracting…his smile, his warm gaze, how solid his body looked under the lab coat. She shifted.

"That's up to you," he told her, taking her wrist into her hand and pressing two fingers against it, taking her pulse. "But it might be awhile until you can get another appointment." He glanced up at her, smiling again. "I can show you my credentials, if you'd like."

This was silly. "No, that won't be necessary, Doctor."

His fingers were warm and gentle against her arm, and he glanced up at her. "I understand your reservations. Dr. Beckett is very good. But…" he winked. "So am I. I'm going to take your blood pressure, okay?"

Jesus. That wink. Warmth pooled in her stomach. She pushed up her sleeve, holding her arm out to him.

Wrapping the cuff around her, he took a step closer and began pumping the attached bulb firmly. "So what can I help you with today? Are you not feeling well?"

The cuff became uncomfortably tight around her arm, then released, making a hissing sound. She took a breath of relief and inhaled his cologne. He even smelled good. "Well…I haven't been sick."

"Mmm. Blood pressure looks good," he said, reading the gage.

When he pulled off the cuff, she rubbed her arm a little. "I've just been noticing some changes that were…concerning to me."

"Ah. Well it's good to be attuned to your body, Temperance."

"That's what I figured." She took a sharp breath as he pressed the end of the stethoscope into an opening between the ties of her gown. The metal felt strange against her skin…not quite uncomfortable, but different enough to put her nerve endings on edge.

"What specifically have you noticed?" he asked, after a moment of listening to her heart. "Slightly elevated," he noted. "But that's not odd during a doctor's visit."

_Control yourself, _she scolded herself. She was a logical woman, and she knew that this was nothing to be embarrassed about. "I haven't been responding normally," she blurted out. "In sexual situations."

"I see." Her well-structured doctor pulled back, letting the stethoscope fall from her gown and placing his hands to either side of her throat, massaging a bit and feeling her glands. His voice was even, reassuring. "Is the problem with desire, arousal, or orgasm?"

His clear, logical response to her revelation calmed her a bit. "Orgasm," she told him. Obviously it wasn't with desire; likely he could already tell that by the way she had been unconsciously eyeing him ever since he walked in the room.

"Lie back," he urged with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Tell me about when you noticed the change."

She eased backward. "I had never had issues with orgasm before. A few months ago, I began finding the process more difficult. I thought that perhaps it was the sexual partner I was with, so I found another. But I had the same problem…and began finding that even while masturbating I was unable to reach satisFAC…" She gasped as his hand found its way inside her gown, smoothing over the top of her breast.

"I'm sorry. Are my hands cold?"

Of course. He was just giving her a breast exam. But unlike other doctors she had in the past, it felt less like a palpitation, and more like a caress.

"No. It's fine," she breathed, shivering anyway. "I just wanted to make sure there's nothing physically wrong."

"It's a natural concern, Temperance," he said, soothingly, lifting her arm and feeling the side of her breast. "Have you had any recent injuries?"

"No." She was trying hard not to squirm under his gentle fingertips. Every touch reminded her of just how frustrated she had been lately.

"Any sexual trauma?"

"No." Unless one considered not having an orgasm for three months traumatic.

"Excessive stress?"

"Always. But that's never had an effect before." She sighed. "My partner would probably say it's something psychological. Guilt over my cavalier sexual lifestyle or something."

He glanced at her face while he moved to her other breast, which had been eagerly waiting for his attention. "Your sexual partner?"

She smiled in spite of herself. "No. My work partner."

He smiled. "I suppose people talk about all sorts of things at work nowadays." He finished his gentle examination with a soft pinch to both her nipples that made her nearly buck her hips off the table. "It may be a combination of many factors," he told her. "It's not uncommon for women to have a period of such difficulties at different times of their lives. While it's certainly frustrating, I'm almost certain it's no cause for long-term concern…but we'll see what we can do for you, shall we?"

Her body was almost throbbing by now. She looked up at him desperately. "Are you going to examine me more?" she asked, not sure whether she wanted him to continue with his tantalizing ministrations, or stop so she wouldn't embarrass herself anymore.

He touched her shoulder gently. "I like to start with the least invasive procedure possible. If it's okay, I'll begin with testing your normal responses."

Was it normal to be so turned at the doctor's office? She certainly wasn't going to ask him _that._

"It won't hurt?" she asked.

That smile again. "If you are uncomfortable at any point, you can let me know. I appreciate you being so open as to come here for this problem; many women are unnecessarily embarrassed by such issues. I promise to make this as easy on you as possible." He reached for gown. "May I?"

She nodded. He was going to undress her. Her heart pounded. "I want to fix this," she told him.

"We will," he assured her, spreading open the gown from the waist down. "Relax as much as you can. You're going to feel me touching you…"

True to his word, she felt one warm, soft fingertip stroke around the perimeter of her sex. The contact felt heavenly, and despite her best efforts to stay quiet a soft moan passed her lips. So good…

"Feel okay?" he asked. Was it her imagination that his voice was a little huskier, a bit rougher?

Okay? It was fucking amazing. "Yes," she breathed, squirming.

"Good. Now I'm going to begin a massage of sorts. And I want you to tell me about the very last time you were able to reach orgasm."

Her eyes flew open. "What about it?"

His finger continued its gentle circle. "The thoughts. The circumstances. Tell me." His voice was hypnotic.

She abandoned her modesty; was afraid if she didn't, he might stop the wonderful things he was doing to her. "I was in my shower," she choked out. "And I was fantasizing…about someone I shouldn't have been."

"Very few fantasies are harmful, Temperance."

"I know. But…" Her thought was cut short when he ran two fingers directly across her sex…not penetrating. Not even firmly enough to give satisfaction. Just a rhythmic touch that slid across her easily. There was no way he could miss how wet she was becoming.

"Please continue," he said softly.

"I was in my shower, and the hot water felt good against my skin…I imagined him pushing open the curtain, catching me there, naked and vulnerable. I imagined him looking at me with arousal in his eyes."

"I'm sure you see that look often. You're a very beautiful woman," he told her, and her belly flipped at the words. _He thought she was beautiful. _His touch increased in pressure, just a little bit.

Her hips were starting to move…just slightly. "I imagined him taking control…coming in with me, crushing my body to his and kissing me. I thought of what my naked body would feel like against the wet material of his clothes."

"And what did you do?" His fingers traveled higher, circling her clitoris now without touching it, making it throb.

All embarrassment had vanished. "I used the shower," she sighed. "I sprayed the water between my legs while I thought of him penetrating me with his fingers. I leaned against the wall and touched my breast with one hand while I…"

"While you orgasmed?" he asked, sympathetically, as the pad of one finger—now incredibly slick—finally brushed her clitoris. He tapped it experimentally.

She couldn't hold back. She moaned now. This wasn't clinical anymore. She wanted him…wanted him to rip off his lab coat, stand between her legs, fuck her senseless…but this was a good alternative, and she didn't want him to stop, so she gripped the sides of the table, pushing herself against his fingers and encouraging him to stroke her, touch her, pleasure her, _anything _but stop.

"Yes. I came. I came so hard."

"You're an extremely sensual woman, Temperance," he said, now rolling her clitoris between his fingers, making her breath come in short huffs. "I want you to close your eyes and remember that fantasy again…picture it."

"I shouldn't be thinking about him that way…that much," she resisted, eyes falling shut and head falling back anyway."

"Then perhaps, just this time…" He leaned down to her ear, whispering, his hand still working its magic between her legs. "You can imagine it's me, instead."

She hovered frustratingly on the brink, her body screaming for release and her mind resisting, but his teasing, unrelenting fingers were patient. She was only half-conscious of him using his free hand to loose the ties on the top of her gown…but was fully conscious of his lips, gently fastening to the tip of her breast. Warmth spread across her chest, radiated throughout her body. _"Please," _she gasped. She needed this. She had been needing it for so long.

"What do you need?" he asked her quietly, raising his mouth and looking her gravely in the eyes.

She took the opportunity she was given by his nearness and her desperation. Grasping the back of his head, she curled her fingers in his dark hair and pulled his handsome face to hers. When their lips touched, her climax began.

He didn't hesitate, but kissed her masterfully through her shuddering, rubbing her with a rotating touch as she moaned into his mouth. Months of pent-up longing shook her body and she almost sobbed with the release of it. _Yes. _

Feeling his stroking slow, she enjoyed the lingering twinges in her nether-regions that he prolonged. When his hand and mouth finally lifted, she wasn't sure which one she missed the most.

He gave her a reassuring smile, pulling the soft material of her gown back over her body to prevent chilling. She looked up at him with glazed eyes, disbelieving at how quickly he had "cured" her.

"What…? How…?"

He chuckled. "I'm thinking you needed permission to enjoy your fantasy."

Despite the glow radiating through her body, she felt a little defensive at his words. "I don't need anyone's permission to have fantasies."

"Of course not." He pulled up a stool next her. "But your insistence that they shouldn't include a particular person…your body wasn't cooperating with the rules you made."

She thought about grumbling, but found herself too satisfied to do so, settling for a soft grunt and closing her eyes.

"Your mind and body are intimately connected, Temperance. You can't turn one part off without affecting the other. The good news is…" He squeezed her shoulder. "It seems that you've overcome that disconnect. Very little medical intervention necessary."

Considering it for a moment, she let her breathing slow. "I'm very satisfied with your treatment, Doctor."

He shifted uncomfortably in his stool. "I'm happy you're happy."

Glancing down, she saw the bulge under his lab coat that showed her exactly how "happy" he was. "Perhaps you also need treatment."

"You don't worry about me," he told her. "I have absolutely no reservations about fantasizing about anything…" His eyes drifted up and down her body. "Or anyone."

Now, she smiled too. "No. I don't suppose you'd have to." Pausing, she pushed her way up to a sitting position, now self-consciously holding her gown together. "So how do I know that this wasn't a fluke? What if I go home and can't repeat these results?"

A slow, sexy grin crossed his face. "I think that's unlikely. But just in case…" he pulled his prescription pad from the pocket of his lab coat. "I'll be available for house-calls."

It was the offer she had been hoping for. "Thank you, Doctor. I admit, I was a little nervous about coming here today. But I'm glad I did. I've always believed in the sanctity of good science."

"Me too." Ripping off the prescription he had written for her, he handed it over. "I'll leave now so you can get dressed."

The modesty behind his statement nearly made her giggle. She watched as he tossed one last, heartbreaking smile over his shoulder at her as he walked out the door. She wished his lab coat was less loose, so that she could enjoy his exit more."

Before sliding off the exam table and moving to put the prescription in her purse, she caught sight of what he had written and paused, smirking.

_Do what you feel._

She wondered how many people in her life would prescribe just that, before she actually followed through with the treatment.

Tucking the advice away, she dressed and left the office with a new resolve.

--

"There is no way," he declared.

It was a Sunday morning and he had talked her into staying in bed for awhile. After some initial hemming and hawing, she had mostly relaxed…especially when he delivered her favorite French-pressed coffee to the bedside for her sipping pleasure.

She looked at him amusedly. "Sometimes it isn't up to you, Booth. Even when a man's technique is fine…there are occasions when a woman is unable to orgasm."

He looked defiant. "I would keep going all day if I had to."

Laughter burst from her lips. "You are such a martyr."

"Not a martyr. A gentleman," he insisted.

She shook her head ruefully, taking a sip of her coffee before relaxing back against the pillows and admiring the view beside her, notably lab coat-free.

"So is it true?" he prodded, stretching, panther-like, on the bed.

"Hmm?"

"Did you think of me like that…before we got together?"

Giving him a pointed look, she smirked. "You are by now familiar with the extent of my sex drive. What do _you_ think?"

He grinned. "That's _very _hot," he told her, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, before pulling back and looking more serious. "Did you try not to?"

She was quiet for a second. Then… "Every day."

There was a few seconds of silence, before he took her by the waist and rolled her on top of him. She squealed a laughing protest, but didn't fight him.

"I'm glad you stopped fighting," he told her, looking up into her eyes sincerely.

Shrugging, she gave him a tentative smile back. "I didn't stop fighting."

"Oh yeah?" He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "What happened, then?"

She thought for a second. "I started feeling." Thinking about it made her grin with him. "And it was just what the doctor ordered."

Laughing, he rolled again, with her underneath him this time, beginning once more to fill the prescription they had been given for fun.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I wrote this in the land of dial-up, when I had nooothing else to distract me. Perhaps should disconnect from the interwebz more often.**

**This one's a little darker/kinkier than some of the others, and touches on Booth's time in the Army. If you're sensitive to that sort of thing, this might be one you want to skip. It can't be said too much, however, that all these scenarios assume that B&B are in a mutually respectful, trusting relationship and have agreed upon what goes on in their little games.**

**Thanks to lizook for the lookover. On with the show!**

**--**

He warily surveyed his situation, which was certainly one of the most concerning so far: each of his arms and legs bound and spread to the four corners of the cot upon which he was laying. Undressed, save for the plain white briefs that seemed little protection from whatever might be coming.

He didn't want to think about what might be coming.

Once a year. The Army wanted to make sure its soldiers could hold up under "intense duress." Of course, they weren't actually going to risk _hurting _any of their men or women. But they had no problem making things extremely unpleasant for them. Once, he had to sit in this room and endure hours of blaring music that made him feel as if his eardrums would vibrate out of his head. Another time, the temperature was turned up to a stifling 135 degrees. Each time, it was promised that the discomfort would go away immediately if he just released the "classified information"…a password that was given to him before he began the ordeal. And indeed, it _would…_but then his integrity as a soldier would be questioned.

Seeley Booth never broke. He endured whatever they threw at him.

But today, the temperature in the room was actually quite pleasant. There were no sounds save for his own nervous breathing. Somehow, this was even more concerning.

He jumped at the sound of the door opening, knowing that his tormenter had arrived. He wouldn't be wondering for long what that torment might be.

Footsteps, slow, over to the cot where he laid prostrate. He refused to look. He never gave _any _captor the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

"Hello, soldier."

At the sound of the voice, his head whipped to the side automatically. He hadn't been expecting a woman's voice. Granted, there were plenty of women in the military now, but still…this was dirty work. His surprise didn't abate when he saw her…she was _beautiful, _even make-up free and in fatigues and her hair up tight. This was _not _typical.

Remembering where he was and what he was likely going to endure, he snapped his head back straight again, refusing to look her in the eye.

"Not very polite."

She moved to the foot of the cot; to avoid looking at her, he'd have to turn his head again. He tried to stare at the wall behind her, but his eyes kept being drawn to her face.

"Seeley Booth," she stated. "Army sergeant. Serial number 16938233." Her eyes traveled up and down his near naked body. "You have something I want."

He swallowed hard. Being undressed and chained up in front of a beautiful woman…was the plan just to humiliate him into giving up the information? He usually tried to be a gentleman, but they'd have to do better than this.

Sitting down carefully beside him on the cot, her bottom brushed his skin right above his hip as she peered down at him and made a token offer before the discomfort began. "One little word, soldier. You tell me now what it is, and I unlock these cuffs, and you get dressed and go on your merry way. That would be the easy way."

The easy way? Him? Never.

"The fact is…" She leaned over him, studying his face, and he worked his hardest not to get sucked in by her crystalline eyes. "I'm going to make you talk, whether it be now, or a few hours from now. You'd just be saving us some time."

He surprised himself by talking. "No one's made me talk before." _Dammit. Why did he interact with her? Why would he challenge her?_

A small smile touched her pretty lips. "First for everything." In one smooth and quite surprising motion, she swung one leg around his waist, straddling his stomach. "You see, soldier, there are all kinds of methods of…encouragement. Mine are unique. But I think you'll find them very, very effective."

His eyes widened. None of these exercises had ever included so much physical contact. What the hell was she going to do to him?

"The military is often so set on violence, you ever notice that? When there are so many other ways to be persuasive." Her slender fingers curled around the snaps on the tops of her fatigues, and undid the top two.

He stared. Was she really…?

Another few snaps. He could see the top edges of a bra that definitely wasn't standard military issue.

"You're going to…try to make me talk by _having sex with me?" _he choked out, disbelieving, shocked at the same time as his cock began to rise in his briefs.

"No, soldier." She grinned wickedly while she popped open the rest of the buttons. "I'm going to make you talk by _not _having sex with you."

He tried to make sense of her, while his brain declined sense in favor of focusing fully on what were possibly the most perfect breasts he had ever seen. Full, smooth, creamy…barely contained by the lacy bra she was wearing.

"Like what you see?" She leaned over, her chest hovering over his face, nipples straining through the fabric and practically making him salivate. "It's interesting, the near-instantaneous evolutionary response that men have to the sight of female breasts. I find that it can be quite convincing."

He blinked hard focusing himself. "I'm not going to tell you anything just because you fill out a bra well."

"Of course not. I would never expect you to." She smelled like vanilla and lavender. "That's just the beginning, soldier." She rocked back, and her ass came into contact with his burgeoning erection. "And what a beginning, yes?" Her tiny wiggle did not go unnoticed.

"This is ridiculous. It's not going to work," he protested weakly.

"Shh. This is difficult for me, too, you know. I promise you, it's not going to be long before I want this just as much as you will. Luckily…I have my hands." She eased her back down onto the cot between his spread legs, using her own to lift up her bottom and peel off the pants that still covered her.

Holy shit. Under those standard Army fatigues was a pinup girl, a fucking knockout. Of course, she would be, if they sent her to do this kind of work. But those legs…they were practically in his face right now, and he had to fight harder to resist stretching to lick them than he did when her breasts were right there.

"Why don't we just forget about the little secret you're keeping from me right now? And we'll just concentrate on showing you exactly how _effective _I can be."

And…she did. She spent long moments reclined between his bound legs, caressing her body slowly and trailing her fingertips across her silky-looking skin. She made sure he knew exactly which spots were the most sensitive with her vocalizations, purring especially throatily when she stroked her inner thighs and the curves of her breasts above her bra. After she tired of that position, she sat up and arranged herself on her knees, hovering above his face and intensifying her exploration of her body. The increasingly pungent scent of her arousal was everywhere as she straddled him, sighing as she dipped one finger into her panties.

"I wish you could feel this," she sighed. "We've barely gotten started, but…" Her finger probed more deeply, and her hips jerked a little, as did his in sympathy. "So wet. It feels like smooth, slick velvet."

He barely recognized his voice when it left his throat. "If you untied just one of my hands…I could feel it."

_What the hell…_she hadn't even touched him more than accidentally, and he was already asking to be released? No, not _released…_just able to touch _her_, even for just a minute. His fingers twitched with want.

She smiled knowingly. "I'd love to, soldier. But…you don't get anything for free around here." With a last empathetic look, she skillfully swung her leg up and around, switching her position and miraculously avoiding kneeing him in the face. Now her lovely derriere was displayed for him as she sprawled across his chest and stomach, her legs spread impossibly wide across the broadest part of his chest. A happy sigh left her as she lightly brushed her cheek against the straining bulge in his briefs.

A "_fuck" _exploded from his lips at the unexpected, soft caress. His eyes flew shut…he couldn't watch her, she was driving him _crazy, _but the images that danced behind his eyelids were even more dirty and explicit than what was going on right in front of him. He couldn't fucking win.

She was good.

"How long?" she whispered, and he could feel the heat of her breath on his cock. "How long are you going to keep me from making you feel good? Making us _both _feel good? It would be so easy…"

To be fair to himself, he thought later, he held out for longer than his tormented body wanted to. Longer, even, than he suspected of his Army buddies, as tough as they were. He held out when she unfastened her bra, revealing creamy perfection, and took to stimulating her nipples by brushing them delicately across his chest. He held out when she started talking dirty, describing each and every carnal act they would perform on one another should he release the information he was withholding. He even held out, somehow, some way, when she began riding his thigh, taking down her hair and tossing it while breathy moans left her pink lips. She did all sorts of things that nearly drove him to the edge, but she seemed to know exactly when to pull back, to keep from falling over.

The first time he begged was when she started nibbling on his chest while occasionally bumping her hot center against his aching cock, each touch sending an agony of sexual sensation through him. He had never felt the need for release so badly. Her mouth was a deadly weapon.

"Please," he gasped out. "Just…"

Her eyes rose up interestedly. "Just what, soldier? Just give you want you want?"

He groaned as she punctuated her question by flicking his nipple with her tongue.

"You don't get something for nothing." She slid the silky skin of her breasts across him. "You've maintained admirable self-control. It's time to let it go, don't you think? It would be worth it. You _know _it would be worth it."

In the moment, he believed her. It _would _be worth it…giving up his pride, his impeccable record of staying strong in the face of pain and discomfort. It would all be justified even if he just got to kiss her, feel those delightfully tormenting lips pressed against his.

She seemed to recognize the signs of his control slipping, and she upped the ante by rising and slipping off her panties, leaving her gloriously naked and perfect. She delicately lowered the waistband of his briefs, then oh God in heaven she was astride him, her sex barely kissing the tip of his erection.

Bucking in vain, he was babbling now, promising he'd tell her, he'd reveal _anything _she wanted to know, just please, please, _God please _sink the rest of the way down and relieve the throbbing ache he was feeling. And ironically, her face looked tortured too; all her hard work at arousing him hadn't left her unaffected. Too late, he recognized this as her weakness.

They both gave in at the same time, her sliding down on him at the same time as he groaned out the word she had so badly wanted to heart. As the French slipped through his lips…_jouons…_there was absolutely no regret. He'd take whatever consequences were meted out…but _he needed this._

She paused for just a fraction of a second, a breathless smile making its way through her arousal. "_Jouons? _Very appropriate, soldier." And then she started to move.

She hadn't been lying…she was like smooth, slick velvet on the inside, an unbelievably perfect fit. His relief dominated everything, his overwhelming desire to touch her drowned out by her blissful moans. He didn't _need _to touch her. She was getting off on this, on having this power over him, and crazily he _wanted _to please her. Her, his tormenter, the one who finally broke him down. He _should _be angry with her.

But he didn't feel angry or broken at the moment. In fact, if he could make her come, he _knew_ he'd be the happiest man in the universe.

"Kiss me," he demanded, although he was not in a position to demand anything.

There was just a brief moment of surprise that crossed her face before she obeyed, leaning down and pressing those luscious breasts against him while she covered his mouth with hers.

The taste of her did him in; he hadn't intended on letting go so quickly, but she had kept him on the edge for _so very long _that his body wasn't his to control anymore. He came inside her with long, hot pulses that shook him to the core, his tongue urgently tangling with hers all the while.

"_Holy fuck," _he gasped out, feeling as completely and utterly drained of energy as he ever had in his life.

"Mmm," she whispered against his lips, urging his last twitches inside of her with continued gentle rocking of her hips. "That's nice. It makes me wish I had another secret to coax out of you." Another lingering kiss, and she sat up again, studying him with clear, perfect eyes. "You have any other secrets?"

Looking up at her, he wasn't sure his body could take another round of such coaxing. "No," he lied, not missing her obvious expression of disappointment.

"Well then. I suppose you've earned your freedom. Although I don't envy you for having to explain to your superiors why I know everything I know." Her smile was almost gleeful, and he knew she was conveniently ignoring the fact that _she _gave in at the exact moment he did; and if he _hadn't _given in, it was likely that she would have anyway.

Easing off of him and tucking him back into his briefs with an affectionate pat, she sauntered to the other side of the small room, reaching down to extract the keys to the shackles that bound him from the duffle bag on the floor. Her naked ass made for an enticing view as she bent over, and, nearly impossibly, he felt his cock twitch again.

"It's been fun, soldier," she told him, as she released his one foot and then the other, before turning her attention to his near-chafed wrists. "Don't feel too badly. It would take almost inhuman power to resist the treatments to which I subjected you. I am _extremely _good at my job and…_oh."_

Her words and breath were lost as she found herself bent over the edge of the cot on which she had held him prisoner. He ground the newly revived bulge in his briefs against that preternaturally perfect ass that she had tortured him with all day long.

"Maybe I do have one more secret," he grunted, his magnificently free hands reaching around and underneath her to cup the softness of her breasts, tease the hardening peaks of her nipples.

She shuddered in his hands, and while she didn't pull away, she tossed her head defiantly and looked at him over her shoulder. "What's that?" she breathed.

One of his hands fumbled to remove his underwear. "I can resist much, _much _longer the second time around."

She turned her head back, but not before he caught the smile curling on her lips.

"_Jouons?" _she asked him, eagerly accepting him back inside her with a moan.

"All night," he promised with the determination of a soldier, before again ascending into the world of her soft flesh, murmured encouragements, and mysterious power over him.

--

"I'd still rather have a gun," she groused as she idly twirled the metal cuffs around her index finger, clinking merrily all the way.

"Bones. Don't _do _that." He could feel color pooling into his face, and he knew that this was neither the time nor place for memories of Bones and handcuffs to come rushing back. Snatching them from her hands, he ignored her annoyed look as he put them safely in his desk drawer.

"You're no fun." But her air of mischief told a different story. "Don't you trust me?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "You _really _have to ask me that, after our adventure yesterday?"

She accepted this with little resistance. "I rather enjoyed having you at my mercy. Just for a little while."

Well, hell. "You keep talking like that, worktime is going to become playtime real fast."

His warning was noted, although he knew it wouldn't be for long. Temperance Brennan was without a doubt the most sexually confident and creative woman he had ever had the pleasure of taking as a lover. For someone who had suggested they make playtime a routine part of their relationship, she certainly took that play _very _seriously.

"Fine. I suppose I should be heading back to the lab anyway." She stood and gave him a light kiss on his cheek before heading to the door; the kind of innocent gesture that always sort of made him want to say _screw _worktime, and bend her over his desk the way he had their imaginary cot the other night…

Oh, _screw _worktime. He grabbed her hand and swiveled her around, giving her a proper kiss that, he noted with satisfaction, made her knees buckle a little bit. "There's no one whose mercy I'd rather be at," he whispered, honestly. "But I also enjoy when we're on the exact…same…page." He punctuated each word with a gentle kiss behind her ear.

He felt her shiver and squirm a little bit. "I gotta go," she told him, and he was entertained and a little saddened that the most sexually confident woman he knew became shy when he spoke of equalizing their little games.

Even though she had made him earn his release yesterday, he gave her hers easily today, knowing that the more freedom he gave her right now, the quicker she would come back.

Someday soon, perhaps it would be for much more than just the sport of it.

--

**A/N: You prob. figured it out already, but just in case: **_**Jouons **_**is French for "let us play." At least, that's what my sources tell me. Maybe it means something horrible and dirty, and my sources are just having fun with me.:-D**

**Hearts you all!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I know, I just updated this one…but inspiration is a tricky thing, and this is what I felt inspired to do next. I hope you enjoy!**

**--**

"Is something wrong, Mr. Booth?"

He blinked a few times through his screen door, his mind putting together the pieces.

"Did I get it wrong?" Her huge eyes looked alarmed. "You said it was okay for me to come straight over after cheer practice, I thought."

"No. I mean yes. I mean…" Shaking his head, he opened the door, gesturing for her to come in. "You got it right. I was going to need a babysitter because I had this training thing scheduled last minute. But then I just told Rebecca to keep Parker, and then it didn't even _matter _because the training was cancelled, and…" He sighed. "I'm so sorry. I forgot to call you and tell you he wasn't going to be here."

She looked so disappointed that he wanted to smack himself. "Oh. That's okay…"

"No, it's not. You ran all the way over here to babysit. I'm going to pay you anyway."

"You don't have to do that, Mr. Booth." She sat tentatively on the edge of the sofa. "The money isn't a big deal." Her pretty face, still looking sad, made him think otherwise. "I…was just hoping for a distraction tonight, more than anything."

He felt like crap—already annoyed that he lost out on a chance to spend time with his son, and now because he had been too busy pouting, he had ruined his babysitter's evening. "I owe you. Don't argue." He smiled to lesson the authoritativeness of his words. "You like iced tea? I made it. And Crystal Light's got _nothing _on me."

Finally, a smile cracked her face, and she nodded. "Sure. Practice always makes me thirsty."

Pleased at his success, he gave her one more winning grin before turning to the kitchen. Maybe if he did something nice for someone, it would make up for the rest of this shitty day. And his babysitter…Parker's babysitter, he corrected himself…had a face not meant to frown.

She also had a body meant to stop traffic. Curvy and lithe and having no business belonging to a girl with less than two decades under her belt, her picture _had _to be in the dictionary next to the term "jailbait." He swore he didn't remember girls wearing outfits that tiny when he was in high school. If they _had, _he and all his classmates would have been walking around with permanent hard-ons.

He shook off his musings as he added ice to the glasses he was pouring. She was practically a kid, for Christ's sake. And right now, it looked like she could use a friendly ear, _not _an older man perving over her tight shorts and the sweet curve of her breasts.

"Here you go."

She had been looking off to the corner of the room, and looked surprised by his sudden reappearance. "Thanks." Taking a glass off the tray he offered, she took a sip and gave an appreciative smile.

"Rough day, huh?" He tried to sound nonchalant while he eased into his armchair and stirred his drink.

Her absent nod confirmed it.

"Do you…want to talk about it? I mean, I might not be as good as your friends or your parents, but…"

She interrupted him with a serious look. "Mr. Booth, do you think…" Her voice trailed off, and suddenly her fair skin reddened and she glanced away. "Never mind."

"It's okay," he encouraged. "Ask me anything."

A deep breath expanded her chest, and after a moment she looked up again and steeled her shoulders. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

It took a second to make sure he didn't choke on his beverage. After swallowing, recovering, and taking a few deep breaths, he felt that _maybe _he could answer her in a normal tone of voice. After all. He _did _tell her she could tell him anything. "Of course you're pretty. Did someone tell you that you weren't pretty? Because if they did, they're obviously a jackass."

He meant it. In fact, he felt angry just considering the fact that someone would tell the girl such a lie and make her so sad. Briefly, he considered whether or not he was too old to threaten the punk kid who had hurt her feelings.

"Not exactly." She looked embarrassed again; her face was fire, and she was murmuring at a volume he had to strain to hear. "It's just…I guess…I'm not good at some other things. So I just hope that I'm pretty enough so that somebody will want to be with me someday."

Now, despite his confusion and annoyance, a protective instinct took over that was so strong it nearly knocked him over. Setting down his glass on a coaster with a distinct crack, he moved over to sit beside her on the couch. "Sweetheart, what happened? What made you feel like this?" He placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, feeling baby soft skin and the thin strap of her tank top.

She sighed, and he could see that she was fighting back tears. "My boyfriend and I…a few months ago we started to…God this is embarrassing."

He stroked her shoulder to urge her on.

"Anyway. It just…never feels good. It just always feels fast and too rough and I told him that maybe we should try something different and he said I just…wasn't very good at it and maybe it never _would _feel good to me. So I just guess I have to accept it…"

Now she was sniffling and he was just _pissed. _He pulled her to his chest, rubbing her back comfortingly. "Honey, your boyfriend, I'm sorry to say, is a dumbass. He's upset that he's not man enough to please you, and he's trying to make himself feel better by making you feel bad. There is _nothing _wrong with you."

She buried her face against his shirt. "You don't know that."

"I do," he told her firmly. "That kid is an ass for hurting your feelings and he probably has no idea what to do with you. You can do so much better. Promise."

Her cheek was warm against his shoulder. "I was gonna wait, you know. But I just wanted to know, before I went to college…I just wanted to see what it felt like. I guess it really wasn't anything to get excited about."

He held her tighter. "It is. It can be. You'll see."

She snorted softly. "Yeah. Some drunken frat guy is going to teach me, right?"

Jesus. It made him half-sick, to think of a drunken college kid groping her at a party, with no idea what a woman needed…and as young and inexperienced as she obviously was, she was still a woman. And she deserved more. "Don't let that happen."

"Right now, I don't think I'd even know any better. I wouldn't know if it were good or bad." Another shuddering breath left her.

She was warm in his arms, perfectly pliant and trembling softly, and it occurred to him in stages, what was going to happen. It went from an inkling, to a true thought, to undeniable knowledge in slow, viscous understanding.

Pulling back, her aqua eyes were huge and vulnerable and as damn close to irresistible as he had ever seen. "Mr. Booth…"

"Sweetheart…I couldn't. It would be wrong."

"It's what I need. I need someone who knows what he's doing. To show me."

"But honey, I can't…"

"I'm not a kid anymore, you know. I turned 18 months ago. It's not wrong."

"It would be taking advantage of you."

Her hands were clutching his arms, face earnest. "Please, Mr. Booth. I just want to know whether or not he was right…whether it's just me. I want to know what to look for when I go to college. You can help me."

Was God testing him? Or could the right thing to do be show this beautiful girl…_teach _her how sex could be? One thing was certain…he had little concept of right and wrong at the moment, but she was gorgeous and willing and _begging _him for something he wanted to do, down to his very bones.

Perhaps he might have found a final protest inside himself, but she cut off the thought with a surprisingly simple, sweet kiss. Her lips were as soft and ripe as fresh peaches, and they tasted like cherry Lipsmacker. And they were heaven.

His hand came up and touched her cheek, silken against his fingers. Drawing her back, he saw her eyes heavy-lidded and glazed from the contact. She was ripe for this…for slow and gentle exploration, for discovering her sexuality the right way. "Promise me…"

She immediately knew what he was going to say. "I promise I'll let you know…if anything's not okay."

She had him. Had appealed to the hero in him. And now this sweet, practically innocent young girl had him by the balls. More than she probably even knew.

"Should I…" She reached for the hem of her top before he pulled her hand away.

"No," he told her hoarsely, standing and offering his hand. "That's my privilege."

Slight surprise appeared across her lovely features, but she hooked her fingers on his delicately and stood, eyes never leaving his. "Okay."

He led her to the bedroom as if in a trance, still unbelieving that he was going to actually _do _this…but helpless to stop. He could hear her quickened breath and he wanted to make it come even faster. He _would _make it come even faster.

They stopped at the foot of the bed, facing one another. Her look was trusting. _What now?_

"I'm going to undress you," he told her, forcing the tremble in his voice to even. "Your lover should enjoy revealing you. Every inch."

"Every inch," she echoed. She raised her arms obediently, and this time he took her invitation, caressing her abdomen for a second before slowly pulling up her white tank. The bra was part of the top, and it met resistance at the bottom of her full breasts; one last attempt to keep her covered. Then the material relented, and was eased over her head, and…

He let out a whoosh of breath, staring at her in her youthful, pert, and creamy perfection.

She watched him intently, as if looking for any signs of disapproval.

He found his voice again. "You should be able to see the adoration in his eyes. He should look at you like you are the most beautiful woman on the earth. Which you are."

A small, grateful smile touched her face, and her breast quivered a little. "Will you…touch me?"

_Jesus. _She was an angel. He was half-afraid that if he touched her, he was going to lose it. Ravish her. Throw her on the bed and…_get a grip._

He took two trembling fingers and brushed the baby-soft tops of her breasts. "He should always start gentle. And stay that way until you ask otherwise."

"No. Gentle is good," she breathed. Her eyes were closed now.

Emboldened by her obvious pleasure, he continued these feather-light strokes, for the moment avoiding her flushed nipples, which were crinkling in response to his teasing. "You're lovely," he told her again, unable to stop marveling over her.

"God," she whispered. "I feel so warm…" Her back arched, and she was begging him with her body to touch her nipples, take the between his lips.

"You'll feel warmer." Hands behind her back, he urged her to the bed, lowering her to the pillow so he could move easily and access every inch of her flesh. When she lay prone before him, he kissed her again, regretting that he just remembered to do so after having been so surprised by her sudden forwardness. Every woman deserved many passionate kisses before getting to this place…half-naked, in a man's bed. She seemed hungry for the contact, clutching at his back and meeting his tongue with her own. Apparently _this _was one area in which she wasn't inexperienced…she was as enthusiastic in her response to his kisses as any woman he had ever been with. He felt her nipples pressing against his chest through his t-shirt, and he felt his pants grow nearly painfully tight.

"Please," she murmured against his lips; and he finally found himself unable to resist her supplications, sliding a hand between them and cupping one of her full breasts, rubbing his thumb against the tip. She gasped and tossed her head back while he lavished attention with his mouth on her throat and his hands on her chest, gently stroking then pinching her nipples. _Now _he felt he may have reached the limits of her experience…her breath was huffing, face pink, and she looked like she had never had the pleasure of having her breasts worshiped before. When he lowered his head and circled one pink nipple with his tongue, she very nearly bucked off the bed.

"Does that feel good?" he asked her softly, teasing her nipple with a flick of his tongue, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

"Yes," she squirmed, fists bunching in his shirt. "It's never felt like this before. I knew…I knew…" Her words trailed into small gasps as he continued to stimulate her sensitive breasts with his lips, and his hand stroked down her body, caressing her thigh, cupping her ass. There was so much of her left to explore. Fingers hooking in the elastic band of her cheer shorts, he nudged them down little by little, loving the feel of her soft bottom against the palms of his hands and her hard nipples against his tongue. Her little sighs were musical. "Mr. Booth…"

"You can call me Seeley," he muttered against the taut skin of her belly. She smelled good _everywhere, _every bit of her tasted like heaven, and if he wasn't so entranced by her he'd be angry again at the kid who in his own selfishness, missed the opportunity to experience her like this.

"Seeley," she repeated, crying out and jumping a little as he nibbled on her hip bone. "Should I…should I touch you?"

He was surprised at how quickly the answer came to him. "No." Rising up her body, he covered her mouth with his once more before continuing. "That's a lesson for another day." He said it without even considering the implications, that he promised her a repeat performance. Many repeat performances.

She accepted it without question, though, shimmying to help him dispense of her shorts and panties, leaving her tight little cheerleader's body beautifully nude and open to his touch. For a moment, her thighs remained chastely pressed together. A gentle touch to her knee and a soft kiss on her lips, and they fell open, exposing her glistening pink center.

He sighed at the sight of her, forcing himself to keep his touch light, barely stroking the wispy auburn hair between her legs. "This part should never be hurried," he whispered against her throat. "He should wait until you're wet enough that his fingers just slide against you…" Tracing one finger lower, he brushed it delicately against her flesh and was rewarded with a jerk and a whimper from her as her hips arched. He smiled. This was just the beginning.

For long minutes he touched her from the outside, getting her used to what it felt like to be primed like this, carefully aroused and prepared for what was coming. His fingers gathered the moisture that was quickly building between her thighs, spreading it, avoiding her clitoris at the moment while he got her ready for that more intense pleasure.

"Please," she moaned. "Touch me more. It's so good."

The tip of his finger slipped easily inside her, finding her swollen and increasingly wet for him. Slowly, he worked it in further, encouraged by her responses. For someone who had been accused of being cold, she was the most exquisitely responsive woman he had ever had the pleasure of making love to; her reactions were only made more thrilling by their genuineness, by the look of aroused surprise on her face. By the time his finger was deep inside her, probing and stretching and stroking, she was writhing.

"He should touch you like this for as long as you want," he near-panted into her ear, "for as long as it takes for you to want…no, _need _more." He caressed her breast with one hand while the other continued to work between her legs, thumb now just barely brushing her clit at slow intervals. "This is the start…of making you feel good on the inside. Soon it won't just be my fingers. Has anyone ever put his mouth on you here? Has anyone ever rubbed his tongue against you here to make you feel good, like I am going to?"

He knew she was responding to all this, was encouraging it, but it still came as a surprise when she abruptly stopped moving, eyes flying open and lips soundlessly quivering. For a moment, _he _nearly forgot what to do, being so entranced by here…but then he felt the fluttering of her inner muscles around his fingers, heard her whimper, and he nearly instinctively began pumping her with more energy, stroking her clitoris with a bit more pressure, in awe that his words had put her over the edge. He was also in awe that not once during this encounter had he been tempted to release his own aching erection from his pants; this was _all _about her and her sweet body, not innocent to sex but certainly innocent to this kind of pleasure.

As she trembled through this first climax, she reflexively gripped his forearm and squeezed hard. "Oh my god. That's the first time…with someone else…" she gasped, shaking, and he silenced her with a deep kiss, loving the bubblegum flavor of her while he touched her powder-soft skin. "Please. Be inside me," she begged.

"But I wanted to taste you," he murmured, continuing soft, slow strokes of her sex.

"That can be a lesson for another day. Please. I want to feel that…the way it's supposed to be. Show me."

Jesus, he would have given her anything now…infinite lessons, if she asked. With a groan of submission, he willed himself to pull away from her, pull off his shirt, fumble with his pants. She was ready for this, ready for _him. _He hoped to god that he was ready for _her._

She watched him with undisguised fascination as he undressed, eyes roaming from top to bottom and widening when he revealed the evidence of wanting. It was the only part of him currently revealing his true desperation for her. She looked completely surprised when he didn't descend her once naked, curiosity and some frustration crossing her face as he forced himself to lie back on the bed instead. "I thought you were going to show me…"

"He should not only give you pleasure. He should help you find your own." He reached for his nightstand, pulled out a condom, and sheathed himself in front of her perplexed eyes. Then he reached for her. "Come here."

There was a moment of hesitation there, and he knew she had never been given this opportunity…to play and explore, without feeling pressured or rushed. "Take your time," he said softly. "Climb on top of me. Do whatever feels good."

Complying finally, she moved carefully astride him, looking blushed and beautiful in the low light. She hovered for a few seconds, looking questioning.

"Go ahead," he encouraged. "I'm not going to move until you tell me to."

Finally accepting the task and permission he gave her, she lowered herself, rubbed herself delicately against the underbelly of his erection. Even though the condom, he could feel the wet, hot slide of her, and it was almost impossibly arousing.

"That's it, sweetheart. You're doing just fine," he coaxed her through her uncertainty, but his own confidence was shaken as she unexpectedly took him in her fist and sank down on him. Suddenly _he _wasn't entirely sure he was just fine. Her tiny gasp and small, dreamy smile nearly sent him reeling.

"Oh, Seeley…"

Luckily, she paused, giving him enough time to recover. She was positively glowing, and he was momentarily thankful that this wasn't the first time she had been penetrated, and he wasn't causing her pain. Quite on the contrary, it would appear.

He placed his hands loosely at her hips. "Find the way it feels best."

And she did. She cautiously moved up and down, then in a corkscrew motion. She leaned her limber body backwards and winced a little as she found the angle of penetration was too deep for her, looked more pleased when she sat straight up, wiggling on top of him and making him smile when she giggled, and then made a noise of delighted discovery when she leaned forward with her hands on his chest, finding the position to have him fill her perfectly, and rub her clitoris against him at the same time. Quickly, she found a rhythm, rocking and squeezing, and her giggles started turning into breathy sighs.

"You like that, baby?" he asked her. "Do I feel good inside of you? Just tell me how I can make you feel good, and I'll do it."

Gasping, she grabbed his hands and brought them to her breasts, where he immediately began gently pulling and tickling her erect nipples. Taking her cue, he began to move with her, slowly and in tandem, whispering encouragements. And slowly but surely, her thrusts lost their experimental feel and became guided by sensation alone, her body instinctively moving in the ways that brought her the most pleasure.

And while her movements were inexperienced, they were blowing his mind more than anything else in his whole goddamn life.

"Sweetheart," he whispered. He felt caught on the edge of begging her to slow down, and refusing to say _anything _that might disrupt the lovely, ecstatic look that played across her face. "God, you're gorgeous."

"Oh my god," she whimpered, blue-gray eyes squeezing shut tightly and then flying open, young body tautening. "It feels…it feels…"

"He should feel it too," he groaned, before feeling that telltale pulsing and for a terrifying moment, not knowing whether it was her, or him. But then she was bucking wildly, crying out, and he joined her with unspeakable relief, knowing he never would have forgiven himself if he selfishly came before her. He should have lasted longer…he should have denied his own pleasure. But this…_together…_was better than anything he could have hoped for. It felt like forever, yet not nearly long enough.

She collapsed on him, almost crying. "I knew it. I knew it could be good," she babbled, while he sunk his fingers into her damp hair and pulled her to him tightly.

"It'll be good every time, sweetheart. I'll make sure of it."

He knew he was promising something far beyond this bed, this experience…even beyond the people they were at this moment.

And when she turned her head and looked at him with crystal eyes…he knew she knew it, too.

--

"Go! Run! Slide into goal base!!!!"

He was screaming along with her, but he was as entertained by her vocalizations as he was by his son running bases in his t-ball game. As the little boy did exactly what his partner suggested, Booth clapped and screamed his appreciation and was reward with a huge, toothy grin from the dugout.

"It's home base, Bones. But you make a pretty good cheerleader, if I must say." He put his arm around her as they sat back down on the bleachers. Bones gave him a knowing smile, but couldn't resist contradicting him.

"No, I couldn't have really been a cheerleader. I had a…"

"Yeah, yeah, deformed iliac crest, I got it." He finally looked away from the field and at her, nudging her shoulder. "It wouldn't have mattered. You would have been the hottest girl on the field. I wouldn't have been able to concentrate on the game."

She looked almost shy, turning her gaze outwards again. "When I was _really _in high school? You would have looked right through me."

At this very moment, he found that _impossible _to believe. But…they _were _very different people now. In lieu of an answer, he just pulled her closer.

"You liked it, didn't you?" she asked, and he wished he didn't know what she was talking about, right here surrounded by people, but he did.

"Bones."

"It's normal to have fantasies about much younger women. They represent innocence, naiveté, fertility…it's an innate, nearly unconscious attraction."

"_Bones." _He held a finger up to hush her conversational tone. "It's…not that, okay? Not that you wouldn't be a hot babysitting cheerleader, but…" He sighed. How did she rope him into these conversations at times like this?

"What, Booth?" she pressed, and all the din from the game seemed to fade from his consciousness.

"I just like…the thought that I'm teaching you something. Something you might not have known before," he mumbled.

Her eyes were curious. "You teach me new things every day," she told him, and her voice was honest. It brought out a burst of honesty in him that he hadn't even known was coming.

"I want to teach you about life beyond playtime."

Reflected on her face, he saw the genuine little-girl fear, curiosity, and desire that he always knew was in her. Playtime distracted both of them from it. But it always came back eventually.

Suddenly, _she _was the one who remembered where there were, and she smiled. "Hey. Don't be so serious. Watch the game."

But he felt, deep in his heart, that this was becoming more than a game.

--

**A/N: I believe there shall be one more chapter to this series before it's complete. So be looking for that. **

**Loves.**

**Edit: Some of your favorite Bones writers have begun an LJ Bones kink community...check it out if your tastes veer towards the XXX! Link is in my profile. NSFW!  
**


	10. Chapter 10

It was late…actually, it was _early, _but everybody else had left the lab hours ago and only she remained. She felt unsettled and couldn't pinpoint an exact reason for that emotion, so she stayed in the place that relaxed her most, completing the documentation from their latest case in meticulous detail, reconstructing through words how their talents had again merged, science and crime-fighting spun finely together to solve a mystery. It never quite managed to shock her, how effective they were…after all, she was the most talented forensic anthropologist in the nation, and Booth was quite gifted in his own right, so their partnership was bound to be a productive one in some ways. But it always pleased her.

Especially now that they were…what they were. Friends? Lovers? Playmates?

Something. Something that had been veering out of her comfort zone for quite awhile.

It didn't surprise her, him showing up at this ungodly hour, but she gave him a bemused smile anyway as the sounds of his entrance echoed through the large room.

"I knew I'd find you here."

She moved one completed documented to the right side of her desk, leaving dozens more uncompleted in front of her. "I'm working. What's your excuse?"

"Knew you were working without me." Scanning the room, he grabbed an extra chair and dragged it the opposite side of her desk.

"Booth, you are not obligated to help me when I choose to work odd hours."

"Shh." He pulled a folder from the stack and flipped it open in front of him. "We work the case together, we deal with the aftermath together."

She quirked her eyebrow at him in semi-disapproval, but didn't protest anymore, simply handing him a pen and looking back down at the form in front of her.

They worked in silence for awhile, the sound of scribbling and rustling papers now the only sound in the muted light of the office. It felt soothing and completely _normal, _and she felt herself lulled by the familiarity. That was too good to last, though, and she knew what was coming.

"You haven't been over in a few days," he said conversationally, his eyes still downturned on his work while he spoke.

She hesitated, then shrugged. "I've been busy."

"You've _always _been busy." He finally hazarded a glance at her. "Is everything okay?"

Making another attempt to keep the mood light, she gave him a brief smile. "Miss me that much?"

"Yes." There was no mirth in his voice; he was telling a simple truth.

Exhaling slowly, she looked at him. He looked good. Truth be told, she missed their extracurricular time too; her staying away was not for lack of wanting him. Dozens of the last several months' scenarios made a lazy turn through her mind, and a warning pulse between her legs reminded her of just how good playtime could be. She cocked her head and stood, leaning over with her hands on the desk to maximize his visual stimulation with her cleavage. "You know what I've missed?"

Sure enough, he looked hypnotized by her breasts, and she beamed at the power. Dropping her pen, she circled the desk slowly, purposely swaying her hips.

"This is the first time we've been alone in the lab…nobody else will come this late." She came to rest behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders and squeezing. "Have you ever thought about having your own secretary, Booth? Someone attentive to all your instruction and needs?" Leaning down, she whispered in his ear. "I can take dictation quite well." Delight coursed through her when she felt his tiny shiver at her words.

Yes, this she was good at.

"Bones…" He covered one of her kneading hands with his.

"'Miss Brennan' will serve our purposes for tonight," she coaxed, blowing cool air against his throat then breathing deeply of his cologne. There were times when just catching the scent of him made her panties dampen. Sidling him, she looked down into his eyes seductively. "What do you need, Mr. Booth? Coffee? A backrub?" She eased into his lap, bringing her lips within inches of his. "I'm at your service." She leaned in, expecting the familiar, sweet slide of his mouth against her.

"Bones." That name again…the one he called his partner, except right now she wanted to slide into something different, something where their roles were neatly defined and no matter how crazy or intense or silly or strange they got, they could slip right out of them at the end of the day, urges satisfied and everything else left untouched. His fingers brushed her face, and he looked into her eyes intently. "Not this time."

Frustration swirled inside her; she could feel him underneath her, hard and wanting. "Why not? I thought you missed me…"

"I miss you every second we're apart."

"But?" She leaned in again, eyes drifting shut, hoping this time he'd accept her kiss without question.

But no such luck. "But…I miss you, Bones. I want _you. _Not somebody you're pretending to be. Not a power game."

Her eyes opened again, perplexed. "But that's how we do it. That's how we keep our sexual relationship separate from our work relationship." She didn't want to have this conversation. Not one bit.

He gathered her hair in his hands and pulled back, still looking at her with brutal honesty. "It's not working." Gently and briefly, he kissed her, although this time she responded only reticently. "You're Temperance Brennan, world-renowned forensic anthropologist. I'm Seeley Booth, F.B.I. agent and former Army Ranger. And don't think for a second that, in whatever other roles we play, I forget exactly who I'm making love to."

She felt her stomach flip at his words, even as a surge of anxiety rushed through her. "Booth, I just don't think it's a good idea to…"

"Please don't tell me _you _forget." As he kissed her again, her reluctance slowly dissolved; his gentle persistence and intoxicating taste dulled her defenses, and she found herself meeting the strokes of his tongue almost in spite of herself. The feel and the flavor was undeniably Booth; she knew it, she had _known _it, and _that _was the short and simple of it. Underneath every game they played, in between all lines they drew…the feelings she had were for _Booth, _and what they meant for their partnership and their relationship and the future scared the breath from her.

They separated, breaths heavy, her fingers gripping at his shoulders as if he might slip from her grasp. "Of course I don't forget," she whispered shakily. "I just…don't want things to change. Everything's been so good."

He held her just as tightly, forehead resting against hers. "Screw what's _going _to happen," he said, softly but forcefully. "Right now I want…_need…_my partner."

She felt helpless; all this time she'd refused to acknowledge the possibility of a _real _relationship with him…he was asking for her, the _real _her, and as silly as it sounded, she wasn't entirely sure how to give it to him.

As he tended to do, he came to her rescue; naturally, easily he understood exactly what she needed in the moment and responded to it. "Do something for me tonight." His lips whispered gentle kisses against her throat. "Tell me the about the role of Temperance Brennan. And I'll tell you a little something about the role of Seeley Booth."

Her eyes fluttered back, the meaning behind his words coming to her slowly. "Huh…?"

In a second, she was lifted, gasping in surprise as he easily stood and moved her to the edge of her desk. Papers fluttered to the floor as he held her there with the strength of his body between her legs. He found the most sensitive spots on her neck easily, and he murmured against them. "Seeley Booth wanted his partner the first time he saw her. Even when she irritated the hell out of him, there was something about the way she looked at him that made it impossible to turn away. She was the most brilliantly original thing he had ever seen, and the more he knew her, the more he wanted to know."

She couldn't help herself. She wanted to know more, too. "What else?" she gasped as his hand slipped up her top and found bare skin.

"It got to be too much for Booth. Sometimes he could distracted by the work they did, but more often than not he was walking around with a crush and a hard-on, trying to stop thinking about being with her, what it would be like to touch her. And when she made her offer…said 'let's play'…he was so ready for whatever he could get that he jumped at the opportunity." He found her breasts, held captive in her simple cotton bra, and squeezed them with infinite gentleness. "Seeing her like that…it took his breath away, and he could barely stay in character."

She remembered that first time; he had been so nervous, staring at her with wide-eyed rapture as she danced for him, leaving nothing to the imagination as she played stripper to his bachelor-party persona. Truth be told, she'd had her own difficulties finding her way into the role; she'd played this way before, with several different men, but the way _he _looked at her…

She'd gotten over it. She _had _to. Fun. Not serious.

Now she had the sneaking suspicion that she had been just kidding herself.

Despite whatever games they played, she was never more honest than when she was writhing against him, begging him for release.

Except maybe the hours afterward, when they curled up together and he whispered "Goodnight, Bones," as they drifted off to sleep.

She owed him the truth.

"Dr. Brennan…she lived for her work." His fingers, rolling at her nipples, momentarily stilled, as if he was surprised she was returning his favor. She kept going anyway. "When her partner came along and forced her to see the world outside, she fought it hard, but…she needed it. Craved it. And she didn't want to admit it so she…"

"Made it into a game," he murmured, working his pelvis against her in a slow grind, making her head fall back at the perfect angle for him to bury his face into her neck.

"Only…" she gasped, ankles crossing behind his back as she tried to force him against her harder. Closer.

"…it's serious now," he finished, and with that he seemed to let go of his previous restraint. He was sucking at her throat voraciously while his hands fumbled between them, trying to unbutton both their pants at once. Kissing her seemed to slow down the process, but he was apparently unwilling to stop.

She reached down to help him, their fingers tangling together, somehow eventually successful in their scrambling and making it possible to pull off her slacks. She felt desperate for him, unsure of what might happen if she had to wait too long to feel him against her, inside of her. A shudder passed through her body as she pressed her hand against the front of his open pants, feeling hot hardness and knowing that it was for _her. _Only her.

"Oh Jesus, Bones," he groaned. "I need you so much…"

Her quiet cry was muffled by his mouth again. One of his hands tangled in her hair while the other cupped her naked bottom, squeezing, and her body was practically vibrating with sensation and emotion…_Booth was kissing her. Booth was touching her. _And acknowledging it…_really _knowing it…overwhelmed her. "Please," she half-sobbed. "Don't wait."

She wasn't sure how he freed his erection so quickly, or how he was suddenly inside her before she realized she was being entered. But he did, and he was, and the intensity of what she felt made her head drop to his shoulder and her eyes squeeze back tears.

Their games…they had already been her best sex ever.

But this…

Squeezing him to her heart-to-heart, the sensations of his thrusts seemed to reverberate up and down her body, pushing her higher. Her fingers clawed at his back, almost fearing whirling away or breaking apart. "It's you I wanted, Booth. Each time," she whimpered, hips rolling of their own accord. A tear escaped her, fell wetly to his shoulder. "No matter who I was."

He grasped her face, pulled it back to meet his darkened eyes. He didn't stop moving with her for an instant.

"Bones," he choked out. "Who you are…is _everything." _

His words moved her; they weren't manufactured or scripted. They came from a person who _knew _her, more than anyone else…and still loved what he saw. She pressed her lips to his again, desperately, wanting to be connected at every juncture.

Her climax came swiftly then, rolling through her body and culminating in a final cry that left no doubt that she knew, under no uncertain terms, who was making her feel this way. As his own name rushed from her lips, he sighed in ecstasy and relief.

Game over.

--

Her office couch wasn't really big enough for them.

But they made it work.

She giggled as he gently blew the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck. They'd have to leave soon; morning would come, and the lab wouldn't be so empty anymore. It was okay for their co-workers to know about them. But _this _wasn't exactly the ideal introduction.

"Soooo…" she drew out, tracing the back of his calf with her toe.

"Soooo?" he questioned, continuing to tease her, making her squirm with his affectionate tickling.

"So…I like this….being ourselves. But it makes me sad to think we might never play again. I enjoyed our little…productions," she admitted. Memories of Booth's gentleness as a doctor, his delicious control as master of the house, his naïveté as her cabana boy, his utter helplessness as delightfully tormented prisoner of war…each of those encounters had ended on a giddy high. She _loved _playing with him.

He chuckled against her shoulder. "Are you kidding me? I have a whole list we haven't even started on yet. You haven't gotten to play nurse yet. And I'm dying to play cops and robbers." He whispered conspiratorially in her ear. "Guess which one you'd be."

A giggle left her. "But I thought we were supposed to be...all _serious _now."

"Moderation, baby. We can play without having it be the main event all the time." She could feel him grinning, even from behind her. "Besides, we're going to be doing this a lot. And variety is the spice of life."

"You think so, huh?" she teased.

"_You _taught me that."

Her body fit tightly into his, and his hand protectively cupped her breast…that's how they slept together, from the very first time…the kind of predictability and comfort that she never would have believed could seamlessly blend with variety and spontaneity. She could be anything with him.

_Including herself._

That missing piece to her own personal riddle snapped neatly into place as she closed her eyes, an unconscious smile taking residence across her lips. She had worried that being in a _real _relationship…the kind he wanted…would feel like so much work.

And, in some ways, it _was _work. Love always was.

But. All work and no play…

…_would never happen._

--

**A/N: OMG I FINISHED A FIC.**

**Now, don't get me wrong. This does NOT mean I shall never write hot kinky crazy role-playing again.**

**But if I do, it will be at the lurvely Kink in the Bones community at LJ (link in my profile).**

**Thanks to shipperatheartrealistbynature for her support with this one. She is saintly with me. When she's not being dirty.:)  
**

**Please, leave me copious praise for finishing something, and maybe someday I'll think about doing it again.:-D**

**Loves.**


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